The Last of the President's Rings
by Raga Pistil
Summary: "It's like Watergate, but with Sonic." -IGN (Final Bonus Chapter "Sonic's Final Night" Added)
1. Chapter 1

**1**

Colonel Miles "Tails" Prower was in a foul mood. The young Air Force officer was on the path to four stars, and maybe the top uniformed job in the Air Force. "I was an ambitious son of a gun," he said later, "and I'd been lucky. I had a very good record. I was in this thing to go all the way, to be the chief of staff."

He was, however, stuck in Soleanna as the senior U.F. military officer and representative to Soleanna from G.U.N., the Guardian Units of Nations—a reward for years in the Mushroom Kingdom and in the Office of the Secretary of Defense as liaison to the Alex Kidd White House. He had been promised he would only be in Soleanna for two years, but now they, the mysterious they, wanted to extend him another two years.

He saw it as a career disaster, keeping him out of the action, the "smoke" as he called it—the center of things. The "smoke" was Central City or the Mushroom Kingdom, where he had flown 95 combat reconnaissance missions.

On this particular day, he was by Wave Ocean, a beachside resort area just outside of Soleanna, traveling with the U.F. ambassador to Soleanna.

Prower picked up a copy of the _Daily Soleanna_ , the local newspaper. Here would be some intel on what was going on in the smoke. He took the paper back to his motel room, a small, wooden hut by the beach, and settled in with a chili dog. The main story was Sonic the Hedgehog, who had just won election as president of the United Federation two weeks before. Prower had voted for him, and had long admired and looked up to his heroics.

He stopped cold. Sonic's top aide was identified as Knuckles the Echidna. Was it possible? Knuckles was an old acquaintance. It was astonishing that Knuckles was running the transition team preparing to take over the White House and the U.F. government, leaving his life-long post atop Angel Island.

Prower and Knuckles had met during a visit to the Spagonia University up north. Prower had been looking for technical books on how to build his own biplane, the Tornado, and Knuckles, who rarely ever left his post on Angel Island guarding the Master Emerald, an ancient relic with awesome power, had sought out books about the deeper history of the seven Chaos Emeralds, their own powers and the many global conflicts they had provoked. They bumped into each other in the library and quickly hit it off. Knuckles was quiet, a somewhat colorless creature, austere, not very political, and very serious about his work. He often came across as a bit of a jerk. Prower had lost touch with Knuckles, but Charmy Bee of the Chaotix Detective Agency, a mutual acquaintance, helped exchange Christmas cards and snapshots of their own travels.

It wasn't much to hang on to. But a fighter pilot knew about coincidence and chance, the quick maneuver in the air. It was the difference between ace or dead.

"Knuckles!" He tried to recall everything about him. How much could you learn from a one-off encounter and hanging around a university library? They had grown up in very different environments. Knuckles was the last of his species with a solemn, important duty to defend the Master Emerald. And with that duty came isolation. The ol' "Guardian of the Master Emerald," Knucklehead, the loner atop Angel Island. Prower needed an exit strategy and now he thought, Here's my out. It was worth a try.

Prower had almost perfect Efficiency Reports, the formal evaluations that drive promotions. He had served as aide to two generals. With a gentle, relaxed charm he knew how to please the boss without fawning, even if he occasionally did come off as a bit needy sometimes. He had earned early promotions due to his great intellect and skills as a pilot, and his personnel file was stuffed with letters of commendation from top officials at G.U.N., including from the commander himself, even if his small size did cause many to initially underestimate him. The twin-tails that he had been born with, due to a genetic defect, which he used for flying like a helicopter, though they had made him the target of vicious bullying or torment as a child, were now his greatest asset.

"If you're going to get promoted to general officer," Prower later said, "you've got to be where the smoke is, in a really important, highly visible job in either Central City or back in the Mushroom Kingdom. And command of a tactical fighter wing in the Mushroom Kingdom is what I wanted in the worst way.

"I was desperate to get back to the Mushroom Kingdom. If I have to be delayed in Soleanna for another two years, I'm dead in the water. I'm frantic, I'm actually frantic. I hate to admit that." The urgency, he said, was simply because no one knew how long the war would last, and he did not want to miss out.

Prower awoke the next morning to heavy rain in Wave Ocean, and lay in bed thinking. If only he could talk with Knuckles, an unhurried session to tout his record: The commander had employed him as a contact point in the White House. He had prepared the commander's regular military reports to the cabinet and accompanied him whenever he visited the White House. He knew a lot about power levers in Central City. He wanted to tell his Spagonia pal about how crucial it was for him to be in an important, high-visibility assignment when he would become eligible for promotion to brigadier general, the one-star generalship, and the road to the smoke.

Would Knuckles understand? Could he possibly pull some strings? There were lots of strings to be pulled, especially from the vantage of the White House.

The weather stayed bad. Good. He wanted time. He flew to the tiny airport terminal, where he had left the Tornado. Scanning the day-old paper from Station Square, he saw nothing about Sonic or his transition. "Damnit!" He thumbed through the other newspapers and several magazines. Nothing. At the counter, he sipped a fruity drink. The rain continued. Prower's mind was churning hard. He bought an inexpensive bag of mint candy and returned to the motel and hung a sign on the door: DO NOT DISTURB. Shaking his damp, orange fur dry, he put on a robe and sat to write. "Dear Knuckles..."

At first, Prower wanted to describe his plight and see if Knuckles would intervene and assist with a new Air Force assignment. He wanted to get back to the Mushroom Kingdom with a wing command, a large unit of many dozens of planes. That seemed incredibly audacious. But Prower's strong suit was personality; he could always put on a brave, can-do face, even if he wasn't always as confident as he appeared. In school, he had been teased and bullied for his two tails, elected class president as a joke, and student body president as part of yet another joke. Despite the brutal bullying, he had earned letters and gold awards in mathematics, engineering, and science competitions. Soon the letter to Knuckles was a direct appeal for a face-to-face meeting at the Golden Ring Hotel in Empire City, where the president-elect had set up his transition shop. Just 20 to 30 minutes. That was a bold request but Prower was a solid and friendly voice from the past.

He was running out of motel stationery, down to the last sheet. Going over to the bed, he lay down. What did he really want? Was it just an assist with a new assignment? Or was it more?

Prower imagined himself in an office talking to Knuckles. Would Knuckles still have that "all business" aura? The cold efficiency and strong will had doubtless appealed to Sonic. Prower knew the type from the Air Force. If he could get an audience, he would be able to establish a rapport. That was what he did, that was one of his talents. He knew that it was also dicey. If he went outside the chain of command to Knuckles, it could be seen as an impropriety. So, he had to ask himself, What is my true objective? Why is it suddenly so important to put myself in front of Knuckles and try to impress him?

But in one of those rationalizations common to all and for which Prower forgave himself, he decided he could offer his professional services for a post on Sonic's International Security Council staff. That would position him to return to the Mushroom Kingdom. That could be easy, he figured. He had to present himself as a clear-eyed flying ace of excellent character and deportment. He was a graduate of the G.U.N. College, had built his own aircraft, had traveled the world and had labs in multiple different cities, in multiple different countries. He pretty well knew the world and the issues. Not a bad package, he concluded. He was also combat ready and trained in every facet of tactical aviation—air-to-air, air-to-ground, air defense and reconnaissance. He was one of the few Air Force colonels with that range of experience.

Out of motel stationery, he went to the front desk and got more. Soon back in Soleanna, he revised his letter, making it into a biographical résumé, and sent it off. Later he tried to call Knuckles in Empire City. No luck.

Finally, Prower reached Silver the Hedgehog, Knuckles's executive assistant, on the phone. Silver was Mr. Step-and-Fetch-It. (Later in the Sonic White House the staff assistants were called "Silvers." Even Silver eventually had a Silver who was known as "Silver's Silver.")

"Colonel Prower, this is Silver the Hedgehog. Knuckles is busy now. Can I be helpful? Knuckles knows you're calling and he told me you two knew each other at Spagonia."

Prower explained that he was coming to Central City on business. Of course, the only business was to see Knuckles but he didn't say that. He said he wanted no more than 30 minutes on an important personal matter. He knew he wasn't fooling Silver, who replied they should talk the next day, and that he would probably have more to go on.

In Soleanna, Prower was his own boss in charge of his schedule so he arranged to take leave and set up his travel. Within days, he was in a room at the Central City Green Hills Hotel watching Sonic on television announce his cabinet.

Prower would later write in his unpublished memoir, "I took note of the Cabinet selectees' names and as I did so a strange feeling came over me. It was one I've never forgotten—a good feeling, one of confidence, a premonition of sorts that I was closing in on my destiny, that I would definitely be a part of this upcoming administration."

The next morning, his fur clean and freshly brushed, Prower flew to the G.U.N. headquarters, which was familiar territory. He had worked there in several assignments. During the morning, he tracked down colleagues who pulled the strings on the many military programs in Soleanna.

At noon, he walked to the vast G.U.N. Concourse, a secret mini-mall of military arsenals, so to speak, found a pay phone and called Silver.

"Mr. Silver is not available. Would you care to leave a message?"

"Damnit!" Prower muttered. He stared at the coin box of the pay phone, his thin, tube-like legs extended out of the booth. Now he was in the delicate minuet of making sure Knuckles knew he was available but not appearing overanxious. He calculated that if he called back in 30 minutes, and then again and again, his call slips could pile up and he would look like a pest. Not persistent, but annoying. Difficult and unwelcome. He decided to play a version of Hard to Get. He would wait until mid-afternoon to call again.

He went into Central City and lunched alone at a chili dog stand. No city brought back more stirring memories because over the years he had been in and out of Central City.

At 3 p.m. he picked up the phone. "Knuckles will be able to see you tomorrow afternoon here in Empire City," Silver said. They agreed on 2 p.m.

The next day, Prower flew to Empire City. As soon as the meeting with Knuckles was over, he was heading back to Soleanna. He then went down to a diner for a light lunch and a little meditation—a comforting stream of hope punctuated with flashes of deep worry. He needed to present himself as a competent potential addition to Sonic's team. There was much to think about. What exactly was the course he wanted to take? And was he going about it in the right way? How many acquaintances from years back did Knuckles have knocking on his door? There was a bit of effrontery in it, but Knuckles also might find it comforting. The top aide to the president might be suspicious of new friends.

Prower stopped at the restroom to gargle and brush his teeth, a ritual he practiced before important meetings. Soon he was out the door. It was cold but sunny, just right for the walk of several blocks to the Golden Ring, which had an elegance of its own. He visited the restroom again to brush his fur. He was conscious of not wanting to look unkempt or goofy as though he had just stuck a finger in an electrical socket. Or worse, been electrocuted; his greatest fear.

"I'm walking in for the final exam," he later recalled.

At the front desk, he asked for the main floor of the Sonic Transition Office and headed for the elevators.

Suddenly there was a commotion behind him, men and animals moving fast. As he turned, he saw this wave sweeping in from the chilly air outside. He knew at once it was G.U.N. Secret Service moving with that special urgency and self-importance. "There's this rush of bodies," Prower recalled. "It looked like 40 or 50 of 'em. Some of them had cameras. So, this was the press. And lo and behold, Sonic the Hedgehog. I'd never laid eyes on Sonic the Hedgehog in person before, but he comes rushing in. I'd thought at the time he looked a little bluer than I thought he was, and a bit taller."

Sonic smiled and nodded to the hotel staff and bystanders and did not turn Prower's way. In 30 seconds, Sonic and his G.U.N. agents, and perhaps a handler or two, had crowded into an elevator and were gone.

Prower marveled at the way the old Knuckles connection was going, the timing, the prospect... the sense of destiny. In the back of his mind was the question: how far to push this? Well, he was pushing it to the limit, and the main event was to come. Maybe his hope was excessive, and he would get a polite brush-off, "Good to see you, Tails, and may the rest of your life turn out well."


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

"This meeting meant a lot," Prower recalled. "I am a full colonel, and I don't want to leave the military. The whole point is to stay in the military." He was not going to tell Knuckles his ultimate objective. "It was a surreptitious plan of mine. And some people would say it's not beanbag. If I just could get with the Sonic team, I thought in a year or a year and a half at the most, I could get out of there and probably get a good assignment back in the Mushroom Kingdom. But of course, I couldn't tell Knuckles that what I so desperately sought was only temporary."

After announcing himself to the receptionist, Prower took a chair and watched the outer office. Lots of hurried movement but these were happy people. Their candidate, and Prower's, had won. Their devotion was paying off for them. They were going to Central City, headfirst into the smoke.

A young hedgehog came tearing around the corner. He was grinning. Had to be Silver. They shook hands. He looked kinda like Sonic. Just, well, silver, and with golden eyes.

"Sir," Silver said, "please follow me."

"What a jolt it was to hear from you," said Knuckles, standing and coming forward to shake hands in a warm greeting.

He had not changed. The long, fire-red, drooping dreads were intact, a trademark of sorts along with the bright red, green, and yellow shoes.

"What brought you back to the United Federation? Or maybe I should ask what you're doing in Soleanna in the first place. Here, sit down."

They updated each other on their lives, adventures. Prower outlined his Soleanna problem.

"Nearly everyone signing up or designated for the White House staff is an out-of-towner," Knuckles said. He joked that Sonic, the great hero himself, was the only one who had been to Central City before. They needed people with "Central City experience" like Prower.

G.U.N. agent Rouge the Bat, promoted to colonel only 3 months earlier, had returned from the Mushroom Kingdom and was slated to be the military assistant to Shadow the Hedgehog, the newly announced Sonic international security adviser.

Prower knew Rouge well from G.U.N. They had both served in the commander's office.

The Sonic world was moving fast, and Prower could feel it slipping away. "Well," he proposed, "perhaps there would be an open slot on the International Security Council staff?"

"No," Knuckles said. They planned for only one military officer on the Shadow staff, and if they made an exception, Prower would have to take a job normally filled by a more junior officer. Knuckles assumed that would be worse for his career than being stuck in Soleanna another year or two.

Prower agreed. He wanted no part of an assignment he would be overqualified for, even if it were in the White House. He had obviously arrived a few weeks late to compete with Rouge, who was known as an ambitious, driven, wily opportunist.

As the talk was winding down, Prower stood and thanked Knuckles for slipping him into his schedule. He tried to feel good about it. He had taken maximum action, hatched a plan, flown to the United Federation and done as much as he could within the bounds of propriety—whatever that might be. So, he would return to Soleanna, where he had a fine though exquisitely smokeless assignment.

He thought he read an expression of sincere regret on Knuckles's face.

As they walked out, Knuckles asked, "Why does it have to be a military job? Maybe there are other possibilities. Maybe we should consider another job in the White House?"

"Well, yes," Prower replied, "maybe we should. I'll think about that, Knuckles, and let you know right away. Meanwhile, the best of luck. I mean it."

Back at the Green Hills, he tamped down his natural instinct to stop at the chili dog stand. It was a long trek back to Soleanna.

Days later he wrote Knuckles a long thank-you letter and said that if it would help Knuckles build his team he would consider a civilian position and leave the military. Prower later said, "It seemed that Knuckles really liked being with me. You really could pull this off. You are going to need some luck." At the same time, he added that he was surprised he had so readily offered to cast aside a sterling Air Force career. But he found there was an excitement in the air in both Central City and Empire City.

Weeks passed. Then, just eight days before the Sonic inauguration, where the president-elect would become the president, Prower's phone rang.

"I've been giving a lot of thought to our talk," Knuckles said, "and wondering where you might fit into all of this. I didn't tell you exactly what I'll be doing in the White House, and there's still a lot I don't know but Son—" He paused, then corrected himself. "The president, Mr. Sonic, has said that I'll be working directly with him. I'll be ensuring that he gets everything he needs, that there's proper follow-up to the tasks assigned the staff."

"I know," Prower replied. "Like an executive officer," the number two in an organization, the person who gets the operations off the ground and follows up.

"Well," Knuckles continued, "I'd thought all along that I wouldn't need a deputy, that I could handle everything I had to do alone." He paused. "I'm sitting here beside the commander now and he has convinced me that I should have a deputy. I had never thought of that." Knuckles said he did not necessarily want one but the commander had persuaded him.

"That seems to be a perfect job for you," Knuckles announced. "How would you like to be part of this and come in as my deputy? I'm really going to be the president's alter ego, and I want you to be mine."

He then put it another way. "You will be to me what I am to the president."

Prower was dumbfounded. This was the job offer of a lifetime. He thought, "If I'm going to go as a civilian, I've hit a home run."

"Now, I realize you'll want to think about this, but we've decided here that we want the whole team on board the day after the inaugural. We don't want people drifting into Central City for the next six months."

"Jeez, Knuckles!" Prower almost shouted. "You've really knocked me for a loop." He wanted to find words to express gratitude rather than surprise. "I do have things to think about. I'm not even sure how to get out of the Air Force. You know… how to retire. But whatever happens, I want to thank you for the confidence. I'm tremendously flattered and honored to be considered." The wrong words, he later realized. He was not being considered. It was a flat-out job offer to be at the center.

"Just let me know as soon as you can, Tails. And incidentally, you don't have to leave the Air Force. Of course, that's all up to you." They had power, he reminded Prower. "Keep in mind also that we can help you right here. Just call me." He gave several phone numbers. "The commander and the rest of the G.U.N. command is just a phone call away, and if you need anything done, _anything_ , we can do it immediately from here."

Prower did not miss the " _anything_." He promised an answer with the next three days. "Is that okay?"

"Three days is fine," Knuckles said. "And Tails, I'd encourage you to think carefully about this. It's an opportunity you don't want to miss."

Prower loved the prospect. He had not accepted on the spot because he thought it might be improper, perhaps even unlawful for a military officer on active duty to accept a nonmilitary assignment in the White House.

After the conversation, Prower sat in silence in the motel room, deep in thought. Finally, Prower sighed and said to himself, "When the president of the United Federation calls, Tails, you don't have much choice."

Three days later, he called Knuckles and accepted.

Knuckles sounded genuinely pleased. "Do you have a place to stay?"

Prower did not ask about title or salary. He, however, decided it was best to resign from the Air Force to avoid any appearance of a conflict or impropriety.

"I'll be an assistant to the president, one of five or six with that title," Knuckles volunteered, "and you'll be deputy assistant to the president."

A week later, Prower flew to the United Federation and was immediately invited to a fancy dinner party hosted by the commander. "The Honorable Miles Prower" was seated ahead of all the ambassadors as if he were more senior to four-star officers. And he was given a general officer's quarters at G.U.N. Central Air Force Base outside Central City.

Old Air Force buddies came up to the table and ribbed Prower, some calling him "Your Highness." Prower simply smiled and laughed his sweet, infectious laugh, which spread around the table. All seemed right with the world.

* * *

It had been a race to get to Central City for the inaugural, and Prower watched snatches of it on television.

The next morning, wearing civilian clothes, he arrived at the White House for the first official day of the Sonic administration. At 8 a.m. Knuckles took the seat at the head of the table in what was called the Froggy Room, right across from the president's office. Some 30 top White House staff crowded into the room, including Shadow. For Prower it was a room full of strangers. They had all, or nearly all, worked on the campaign or had deep associations with Sonic.

Knuckles was stern, all business, very much the man in charge. "This is the new man Miles Prower," he announced. "He is my deputy. He and I will be working together closely."

Damn nice of him, thought Prower. It gave him immediate standing.

"Keep in mind," Knuckles said, "we're here for _eight_ years."

What? Looks of mild bafflement appeared on a number of faces. Knuckles explained that though Mr. Sonic had been elected to a four-year term, in this day and age it was virtually impossible to push through Congress any kind of meaningful legislative program and do all the other things—foreign and domestic policy—in four years. "So, it's eight years for us. Develop that mind-set," Knuckles said. Though he was clearly the top staff person in the new administration, he was adamant that he not be called chief of staff.

Eight years was a bold declaration, boiling with self-confidence. It was a nice, unexpected touch. Prower thought it insightful, if they could deliver. Eight years could give them enough time for an era, a Sonic era. He figured Knuckles was acting as a good football coach getting his team mentally prepared: we are here to win our games, not to lose.

"We want to start thinking of ourselves as invisible," Knuckles said. "Mr. Sonic is the star on the team, the only star. We're here to serve and support. No grandstanding by the staff."

This was all said in utter seriousness, no levity.

"Finally, this is important," Knuckles directed, "no one of the staff other than communications director Espio"—the calm, soft-spoken chameleon—"and Vector"—the loud-mouthed crocodile—"the new press secretary, is to have any contact with a member of the press. We're going to be the silent staff." Exceptions would have to be approved in advance by him. He would have to be convinced such contact would benefit the president. If not, he would not approve the contact. "In case there is any ambiguity, the rule"—Prower thought it was an edict—"goes into effect today," Knuckles said. The atmosphere was clear. Prower would later call it "a mood of manic resolve."

"Be in the Emerald Room of the White House at 12:45 p.m. for a 1 p.m. ceremony in which each of you will take an oath of office," Knuckles said. "Go to your assigned office and draw up a list of any repairs, furniture or supplies you might need."

Eight years, invisibility, strict orders not to talk to the press, to-do lists apparently down to how many paper clips they might need? Did Knuckles think of everything? Prower wondered. It was as if Sonic, and his presidency, was being wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Prower was assigned a cozy, low-ceilinged office in the White House basement, across from the one-chair barbershop and next door to the photo studio.

He strolled down the hall to the Action Room and found Colonel Rouge, the new military assistant to Shadow. The two laughed about all the times they had been in the White House during the Kidd years. That was their secret, they joked, and agreed that it was better not to advertise or even let it be known they had served in the previous administration.

At 1 p.m., Prower was standing with Knuckles and other White House staffers in the Emerald Room. He had not seen Sonic since the month before in the lobby of the Golden Ring Hotel.

"Ladies and gentleman," a voice boomed, "the president of the United Federation and the chief justice of the United Federation."

Soon the president was directly in front of Prower—four feet away on a slightly raised platform. The expression on Sonic's face signaled apprehension. He had a way of smiling with his mouth but not his eyes, Prower noticed. He knew how expressive the eyes could be. A genuine smile tended to move to the eyes. But Sonic's eyes looked hollow. How strange, Prower thought. Sonic had been high visibility for years, had been a global hero for years, had spoken to countless people and battled for their safety in every imaginable, intense, high-stress setting. Why couldn't he be at ease surrounded by his own people at what should feel like the crowning moment of his life, and in what was now his own house? Maybe he was just not feeling well.

Sonic spoke for five minutes. He made several awkward jokes telling the men on his staff that they would be working nights. "If you are away after midnight," he added, "don't blame me, blame yourself for being too slow."

"I'm right there by the platform," Prower remembered. "I'm the first guy. And Sonic's standing there. And I see he's looking at me funny, like he doesn't want to stare at me, but he has never seen me before." Prower laughed, recalling the moment. "I couldn't say, 'Hey, don't you remember me in the Golden Ring lobby!' And I wondered if I'm the guy making him uncomfortable."

After the ceremony, Knuckles invited Prower to his office, which adjoined the president's office on the wide side. It was large with windows and a fireplace. He wanted to talk about an important topic: paper flow. How paper would move to and from Sonic, how to manage and control it, somehow get their arms around the vast amount of business in the largest of enterprises: the Federation presidency, and the procedures for making decisions large and small.

"I want you to work right here in my office for most of each day," Knuckles said, "so you can see how both Sonic and I think, our style, our every mode of operating. "I want you to take notes like I do when you're in with the president. You know, to use the same format." Format was important. "Even to act and react as I would."

"I couldn't believe he was saying that," Prower recalled. He asked, "Why?"

"Because it will be easier on the president," Knuckles replied. Presidential ease was critical. "He's a funny guy. Despite what you've seen on the television, in front of the cameras for all these years, it's actually hard for him to deal with people he doesn't know well."

"I wanted to say, 'Now you're telling me,' " Prower recalled. "I'm just in from Soleanna." He thought he might have asked: How about people he has not even met?

"The chemistry has to be there," Knuckles went on. "So, until he gets used to your company, to your presence, to the extent that you can be a carbon copy of me, or a near carbon copy, you will put the president increasingly at ease. It isn't going to happen overnight. I know that; but I'll tutor you. Every time I come out of the president's office, I'll review with you what went on, how I responded, and how I plan to follow up on items that require staff action."

"That scared me to death," Prower said later. Knuckles had intimated on the phone that Sonic was a bit odd and Prower had read that in news reports. But this was extraordinary. Was it really necessary? He knew about the importance and subtlety of personal chemistry. But this exercise, apparently designed to create a staff clone, sounded not only weird but ridiculous.

"So," Knuckles told him, "I'm going to have to work you in rather slowly. If you don't do things exactly as I do, it could upset him."

It wasn't over. "When I go in there, I always sit to the left of the president. We always use yellow pads around here. He uses yellow pads. Don't use a white pad."

Unbelievable, thought Prower. He didn't want to hear any more. "It was a strange world I was entering. I wondered if it was as strange as it sounded. I thought, Do I have to cut off my second tail too? What have I got myself into? I'm wondering if I can really be a carbon copy of Knuckles." He thought of asking, " 'Do you want me to leave now, Knuckles? Do you want me to pack my bag and leave?' It was hard to respond. I just had to nod. I couldn't get up and walk out, although I thought about it.

"I can hardly believe this little briefing I'm getting here. It's incredible to me. Where else could this be happening? I can't imagine."

The Air Force could be buttoned down, but this was another dimension entirely. Shortly after 5 p.m., Knuckles was called into the president's office. Prower assumed he would be out in a short time to give him his first coaching session in "How to Be a Carbon Copy." At 6:30, Charmy Bee, now both the designated staff secretary who would handle presidential paperwork as well as the liaison with the Federation Congress, came in. After cheerfully greeting Prower and explaining how he had gotten involved in the new Sonic government with _two_ big jobs, Charmy outlined how they would be working together on administrative matters.

"Knuckles is in with the president," Prower said, "and I'm waiting for him to come out."

"Oh, I don't think so," Charmy said. "Knuckles is across the street with the president. They're taking a sort of tour of the Federal Executive Building"—the main staff building next to the White House.

After 7:30 Knuckles returned to his office, where Prower had waited two and one half hours.

Knuckles apologized.

"I didn't mind," Prower said. He had reconnected with Charmy Bee and they had discussed old time sand paper flow.

Knuckles apologized a second time for not alerting Prower that he and the president had gone on a tour. He had thought of leaving the president for a moment to go back to his office and explain. But, he said, if he had done that he was afraid he might somehow unnerve Sonic—"You know, make him uncomfortable knowing you were in here."

No, Prower didn't know. And he didn't understand. Not just his presence but the knowledge that he was in Knuckles's office would somehow stoke the president's worry? This made Prower think that the discomfort was about him. Yet he felt it was best to get back to a discussion of paper flow, note taking and carbon-copying Knuckles.

Knuckles was not going to let it go. "He knows we've brought you in as my deputy. In fact, he saw you this afternoon at the swearing-in."

That was not surprising to Prower, who had been four feet away from the president for the ceremony.

"He asked if you were the one standing next to me by the podium. So I can tell, he's just a little edgy."

Edgy? Why? How was that possible?

"He knows of the plan—in fact, he's approved the plan—to bring you into the presidential office operation, but he's apprehensive about our getting started."

Apprehensive? The man has just taken over the United Federation, the leadership of the free world, and he is apprehensive about meeting a midlevel functionary? What was going on?

"That's why I want to wait for just the right time to take you in and introduce you."

"Knuckles, please," Prower lied. "That's fine. I understand perfectly." He did not understand at all.

Knuckles continued to express concern about the coming introduction. Prower could still remember Knuckles's words many years later: "He's such a funny guy," Knuckles said. "I've got to play his moods. And if it happens to be the wrong time, you're dead in the water before you get started.

"I've brought you all the way in here. I have told him about you, but you know, I don't even know if he was paying attention."

Prower did not know whether to shriek, cry or walk out. What a thing to say—"I don't even know if he was paying attention"—even if it was true. What an utter put-down, cold, cruel and demeaning.

Given the circumstances, Prower smiled and assured Knuckles he would follow his lead. "What do you think it'll take, Knuckles, a couple of days?"

"Oh, yeah, about that. We'll do it this week for sure—probably late in the day as he's leaving the office. He'll be more relaxed then."

Was this happening? Was it believable? How could the president of the United Federation need to be relaxed to meet him? How could _Sonic the Hedgehog_ need to be relaxed to meet him?


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Five days into the administration, Knuckles was sitting in his office with Prower, going through a manila folder filled with memos that Sonic had dictated to Amy Rose, his personal secretary for many years who not-so-secretly had a crush on him.

One memo began: "To: Mrs. Sonic . . . From: The President."

"Imagine yourself married, Tails, writing this to your wife," Knuckles said smiling. "To: Mrs. Prower, From: Mr. Prower. Like that." He read on. One subject was Sonic's bedside table: "STH needs a table that is larger, something that will allow him to get his knees under it." Sonic kept referring to himself in the third person and with initials. Prower had trouble believing what he was seeing as he read on. "STH . . . STH . . . STH." It was as if Sonic were discussing another person.

"I had never seen anything like it," Prower recalled. "I could hardly believe it. In the real world, it's a funny memo." He was more fascinated than amused. What was this marriage? And who was this Sonic?

* * *

In those first days, Prower got to know many of the senior and more junior people working in the White House. They seemed friendly, welcoming and savvy. They showed reverence toward Sonic, a devotion and almost worshipfulness when he would pass through. Mention of him was "THE PRESIDENT." Prower had seen some of this in the Kidd White House but the intensity was new.

One day early on, Knuckles returned to the touchy subject of the president's marriage. "It was never easy," he explained to Prower, "never harmonious." Sonic and Sally often saw things differently, and neither gave in easily to the wishes, or demands, of the other. "Sonic wanted to eliminate the friction," Knuckles said.

"He went through a long explanation of how he wants us to work with her staff," Prower recalled, "and it boils down to our carefully reviewing everything they recommend—all the social function scenarios." Chiefly about receptions, dinners and parties.

"When we can, we'll return the scenarios 'approved as submitted,' " Knuckles said. "But when we can't, when we feel that changes must be made, we'll make those changes and they'll have to accept them without protest."

It hardly sounded like a plan to avoid friction. "Isn't that really a matter for the president to take up with the first lady?" Prower asked.

Knuckles chuckled. It was uncharacteristic of him. "You don't understand, Tails," he said. "The president doesn't discuss these kinds of things with Sally. We do.

"And that brings up another subject," he continued. He personally had served as the intermediary between the Sonics over the years. "She hates me," Knuckles said. He usually reflected the president's view and was a pretty straight transmission belt for Sonic's likes and dislikes. The relationship with Sally never took. "I failed." Eventually, during one of the campaigns, she refused to see him or talk to him on the phone.

"Finally," Knuckles said, "we made Cheese the intermediary." Cheese, a chao, was currently the appointments secretary, despite the fact that a chao could not properly speak. "Cheese, as you may have noticed already, has the world's nicest manner. He is polite and considerate, and both the president and I thought he'd work out fine. No words, no arguments; just bringing text messages to and fro and keeping a bright, beaming face."

Cheese lasted a couple of months. "But as soon as Sally felt that Cheese had no personal interest in her view, that he was only seeing her to convey Sonic's view—you know, the president's view—she shut him out too," Knuckles said. "To this day, she doesn't really trust me because she's convinced I will always represent the president's position—she's right, actually."

No surprise, Prower thought. Of course, she would realize the obvious that anyone in the employ of Sonic would be the advocate for his views.

Prower, however, did not see what was coming next.

"I think you could handle Sally perfectly," Knuckles said. "You're a lot older than Cheese, and bigger, and can actually speak. That'll help a lot. And because you're new on the staff, she won't see you as she sees Cheese and me as longtime associates of the president."

Oh, no, Prower thought, as the new man he would have to be more inflexible, reflect the president's views unflinchingly to the first lady.

"And then there is the Amy Rose problem," Knuckles explained. Amy had been with Sonic for years, ever since he saved her from Metal Sonic on Little Planet. That was many years ago; a different Sonic, it felt.

"She's almost like a sister to everyone," he said. "But the fact is that she's outlived much of her usefulness. She's not sophisticated in the least and hasn't grown much. The president likes her as a friend, but he wants to keep her at a distance. If he doesn't, she'll be in his office every five minutes with some unimportant, irrelevant matter. So, I've got to work that out." He said the president was very aware of the Amy problem, and had told him, "I don't want her coming in here every five minutes," Sonic had said. "She's a pain in the ass."

Prower wondered if he was also going to get the Amy account. But the news was almost worse.

"Incidentally," Knuckles added, "you may want to be on the alert. Amy's already resentful of you. She doesn't like to see new people getting close to her man."

The Sonic inner circle sounded like both snake pit and kindergarten. "I'd say she's a bit premature in her resentment," Prower said.

"No," Knuckles said. "As I say, Tails, I don't want to wait any longer." He would take Prower to meet the president, he promised, today or tomorrow. "There's too much to be done that depends on your working as closely with the president as I am."

Knuckles added that Prower had to understand, "The president only works through me." And the goal was to substitute Prower as the alternative Knuckles.

But in the meantime, here was the plan. "If the president comes in, you just walk out." On occasion the president would come into Knuckles's office. If he did, let him only see your back, Knuckles instructed. "It'll spook him if he sees you."

Prower recalled, "I'm hiding behind columns, or I'm ready to, you know? I'm sleuthing around the White House so I won't spook the president when he sees this different face. It was an uncomfortable period."

Knuckles had one more piece of business. The president was interested in preserving as much detail as possible of his presidential history. So, the president wanted to start having someone senior on the staff sit in on every meeting and take notes of the highlights. "Not only the substantive things," he explained, "but the mood of the meeting, as well. The president described them as sort of 'anecdotal reports.' And that is something I want you to get launched." Prower would be one of the handful of people to sit in once Sonic got to know him. Shadow; Mighty the Armadillo, the mysterious White House counsel and very old acquaintance of Sonic's; and Knuckles himself would do these memos.

* * *

It was an agonizing two weeks for Prower as he stayed out of sight.

One day, Knuckles came racing in to find Prower.

"Damnit," Knuckles said, "just what I did not want to happen. There are reports of irregularities with the Master Emerald and I've got to get out to Angel Island to check it out." He didn't have details, but as the guardian, he would have to drop everything and ensure its safety, even when doing so inconvenienced other business for him. It had been almost a month, and Prower still had not yet met Sonic. "I've got to take you in to meet him. You have to fill in for me when I'm gone," Knuckles said. He would be away about four days.

Prower recalled, "It was terrible. He grabbed me and said, 'I've got to leave as soon as possible so I can be back as soon as possible. This is just what I didn't want to happen. I've got to take you in now to meet the president. Talk about not the right time.' So we run down the hall; Knuckles's almost frantic. We burst into the president's office breathless and unannounced. Of course, _he_ could do that. I remember the president's face. We startled him. 'What the hell was going on?' he probably thought. 'It's Knuckles and he's got that freaky, two-tailed fox with him.' Still at a trot we move toward the middle of the president's office. And the president can see the two of us running in and stop in the middle. So he gets up and comes around from his desk."

"Mr. President," Knuckles said. "This is Miles Prower. He's the one I've been telling you about. He's coming in as my deputy. He was in the Air Force." He explained that he had no choice but to go to Angel Island to check on the status of the Master Emerald. "I'll be gone three, four days. And Tails—er, Miles will be sitting in my office and I just wanted you to meet him. Miles will be at my desk tomorrow, and he'll be running the presidential office operation for the next four days."

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. President," Prower said, extending his hand, "and to be here too. I'm really grateful for the appointment. It's a great honor for me to be a member of your team."

It was a good firm handshake. "There are only three of us there," Prower recalled, "so it's time for the third guy to speak."

"Ah, uh, hmm, ah, ahh," the president mumbled, clearing his throat and gesturing toward Knuckles. "Urm, urm." His right hand went up to his mouth, covering it briefly. He seemed about to speak, glanced at Prower and motioned to Knuckles. But still there were no words. Sonic began to make little circles with his hand as if to recall something to mind. "Urm, urm," he said.

Prower looked pleadingly at Knuckles.

Sonic again uttered some low-pitched guttural sounds that were not words. Suddenly he began to move one foot back and forth, almost pawing the carpet.

It was torture. Prower was considering a prayer asking for divine intervention, someone to help the president, anything.

Knuckles suddenly shifted his position.

Good idea, Prower thought, shifting his own body. But he felt strangely uncoordinated. In the silence, he found himself also pawing the carpet with one foot like Sonic. He could not think of a time in his life when he had felt more uncomfortable.

The president seemed as if he were trying mightily to say something. He was perspiring, and no words came out, only a kind of growl. It was nothing intelligible. Someone had to end this suffering, Prower thought, and he started to speak. He wanted to say something about getting back to work. But at the same instant Knuckles broke in, firmly and abruptly extinguishing Prower's words.

Prower did not register what Knuckles said, but the tension seemed relieved.

Knuckles and Prower glided toward the door as if they had just adjourned a normal meeting.

Prower felt as if he were a zombie.

"Well, thanks, Mr. President," Knuckles said, almost chirping his words out. "Miles will be at my desk in the morning. I'll be working Miles into some of your meetings starting first thing next week."

"Fine, fine," the president responded. "Oh, say, Knuckles, I've got this stupid reception over in the Emerald Room. You know, the diplomatic thing with all the world's stuffed suits. Are you coming over?"

"No, sir. I hadn't planned on it. Do you want me there?"

"Oh, no," the president said. "I'll call you later."

Knuckles grabbed Prower by the shoulder and they rushed out of the president's office.

"Damn! Damn!" Knuckles said all the way as they ran.

Back in Knuckles's office briefly, Prower fell into a chair.

"What did I do wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Knuckles insisted. It had been his fault for not finding a more leisurely moment in the president's schedule. "Tomorrow would have been a lot better. He's got a pretty light day. But you see now, don't you, why I was so insistent that the timing be right?"

"Yeah," Prower replied, "I sure do."

"I should have been more patient," Knuckles said. "But I need you in there more than ever now."

Knuckles departed at once. Prower was left to worry alone. Not a word! Whatever the reason, it was a total disaster, an experience he would never have thought possible. Three minutes he would never, ever forget. He felt lost. Was he dead in the water, as Knuckles had earlier suggested? Talk about invisible. Talk about not paying attention. Did the president even know he existed? That he had been in president's office pawing the carpet mildly traumatized? Was it because of him? There was no way not to take this personally. Was this the _real_ Sonic the Hedgehog, once the beloved hero for so many and now the president?

"I can't tell you how bad it was," Prower recalled. "And I thought, whoa, where the hell am I? You know? I just didn't understand what the next couple of days were going to hold for me."


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

Prower was in Knuckles's office right next to Sonic's the next day. He waved between still feeling traumatized and isolated by his wordless and devastating encounter the day before and the odd sensation of being right there next to the most powerful hedgehog in the world.

How could Sonic avoid speaking with him now? But Sonic went through a busy schedule and did not call or buzz once. It was a long, unnerving day. It seemed that the president was doing everything to avoid him. Normally by evening, Knuckles would have been with the president four or five times. Prower was anxious to go back in there, and concluded that the absence of a summons had to be purposeful. "He's trying to run the whole presidential office by himself without my help," he concluded.

At 6:30 p.m. the president summoned Rouge. Prower now worried that Sonic could make a clandestine exit, slip out of the office through the glass-paneled door leading outside, and be over in the residence before Prower even noticed. He vowed that he could not let that happen.

So at 7 p.m. sharp, after the president had been with Rouge for half an hour, Prower walked into the president's office.

"Excuse me, Mr. President," he said, "but I didn't want you to get away without signing the day's accumulation of bills. Some of these have to get out tonight."

Sonic glanced at Prower, and without a word, looked back at Rouge and resumed their conversation.

Again! thought Prower. Again! He walked over to Sonic's desk and placed the open folder of legislation and correspondence that needed his signature near his left elbow. As Knuckles had instructed in clone school, he held the first bill in front of Sonic at an angle convenient for signing. "There aren't really too many of these tonight," he explained, "about a dozen." He expected Sonic to respond, acknowledge the necessity of the often twice-daily ritual of signing.

Instead, there was an awkward moment: pure quiet.

Rouge then asked a question, and Sonic answered her as he signed the bills. He put the cap back on his pen and resumed his conversation with Rouge as if they were alone in the room.

Prower felt flushed, but he gathered his documents and walked toward the door.

"See you later, Miles," Rouge said, perhaps sensing the embarrassment. He never realized just how weird it felt to be called his birth name, rather than his nickname, until everyone started doing it in front of Sonic, sometimes just barely catching themselves before "Tails" escaped their lips.

"Okay, Rouge, see you tomorrow," Prower said and exited.

There was no ambiguity. The president had not only been cold, distant and dismissive. He had been rude. Flying home, he could think of nothing else. As he lay in bed, he could not shake it. Not a word. Damnit! he thought. Who did he think he was? For a moment, however, he managed a smile. He, of course, knew the answer. After all, Sonic was the president of the United Federation, and a beloved hero long before that. But that should not provide him with immunity from the niceties of basic interaction. When all was said and done, he did not have to be rude and uncivil. Prower wondered if he should go to Knuckles when he returned and volunteer to leave. How was this ever going to work out?

Prower later described his thoughts to me. "I wondered, is he really rude, or is he just terribly shy? I was really upset. Here I was, I had given up the whole Air Force deal, my career, Now I've been lured into this thing. Obviously, I was starting to blame it on other people." He laughed. "It was all my decision. I knew that. But it looked like I was toast."

* * *

The next morning, Charmy Bee came to see Prower with news from the Federation Congress.

"Let's make sure the president is brought up to date on a brewing issue in the Westopolis legislature," Charmy said. The local legislature for the Federation territory was agitating Sonic to fill a vacancy in the governorship, arguing that they could not proceed with their budget without a new governor. Lots of the congressional leaders coming in for an 8:30 a.m. meeting with the president were aware of the issue and it might come up.

He was plainly warning Prower: Don't let the president be embarrassed.

At 8:10 a.m. Prower hurriedly put together a memo on this issue of the Westopolis legislature and governorship. He called Charmy and suggested he brief the president so Sonic would not be blindsided.

Charmy called back to say that he had been in with the president but he had not had a chance to raise the Westopolis problem. The commander was currently in the president's office with the president. It would be "prudent," Charmy said, to brief the president. By "prudent," Charmy meant: Do what I suggest.

Prower said he had written a memo on the Westopolis issue and would hand it to the president as soon as the commander left the president's office. He knew that Charmy was eager to get to the Cabinet Room to mingle with the congressional leaders—his constituency as head of White House liaison with the Federation Congress.

Prower phoned Amy, whose office was strategically placed on the other side of the president's office. Her office had direct access to the Cabinet Room. "Call me please," he asked, "as soon as the commander has left and the president is alone."

The minutes ticked by. No call from Amy.

At 8:27 a.m., three minutes before the leadership meeting was scheduled to begin, Prower decided to act. Knuckles would not let this slip. "Feeling duty-bound," as Prower would later describe in his unpublished memoir, _Fly High: The White House Tales of Tails_ , his job was to make sure that Sonic was not "embarrassed" or "caught short." He opened the door directly into the president's office, the memo in hand, and walked in. He was just in time. The president and the commander were out of their chairs and heading for the leadership meeting.

"Mr. President," Prower said. "It'll only take a minute, but you should really read this one-page memo before you go into the leadership meeting." He extended the memo toward Sonic. Something was not right. "Or I can brief you orally," he added lamely.

Sonic was visibly annoyed. The expression on his face was chilling.

Prower momentarily felt almost defiant. He didn't give a damn. This was his job. He was representative of the system Knuckles and he were putting in place—looking for, protecting the president. The president and his new aide stood there for a fraction of a second almost facing off.

"What the hell is this about?" Sonic snapped. "What do you want?"

Prower wanted to say, "I'm just doing my job." But he realized he was about to step in it. Oh, how insignificant his answer was going to seem. Here was the president meeting with the G.U.N. commander in the middle of a war, perhaps the most controversial in U.F. history. How could he couch it succinctly to make it sound worthy of stopping the president almost literally in his tracks?

"It's about the Westopolis legislature," Prower said, "and—"

"The Westopolis legislature?" the president shouted. "Jeez! I don't give a damn about the Westopolis legislature!" He turned to the commander. "Do you give a damn about the Westopolis legislature?" essentially asking if the commander were an idiot like this other guy, Prower.

"No, sir, Mr. President, sir, I don't give a damn about the Westopolis legislature," the commander dutifully replied. He was obviously enjoying this little bit of presidential theater, even if it was at the expense of one of his old, trusted aides. There was the president chewing out one of his underlings, demonstrating command and common sense, which the underling clearly had not.

The president shook his head.

An artful combination of disgust and disbelief, Prower could see. The perfect put-down.

Without another word, Sonic turned back toward the far door and with the commander close on his heels, walked out.

Prower recalled, "I got these two rude sons of bitches—one of them I had considered a friend. The thing is about to come apart for me." His first impulse was to tear up the memo and erase it and the encounter from his mind. Instead, restraint was the order of the day. He placed the memo on the president's desk and returned to Knuckles's office.

"I knew I was going to quit," Prower later told me after reviewing his old notes, memos, and the unfinished, unpublished book draft. "I was going to quit this job. No one had ever talked to me that way. In all my years in the military, no one had ever talked like that.

"Oh, I can't tell you how close I came to walking out. I was mad. Man, I thought that was rude. Rude!

"Knuckles had brought me in there, he's away and I'm flunking the course my first time out of the box. I wanted to say, 'Fuck you.' " In an instant, Prower stopped and recoiled, his hands snapping to cover his mouth. Then, after a moment, he uncovered it. "I mean, I did want to say that," he said, his eyes looking toward the floor.

He did nothing of the kind. Throughout the balance of that day, the president did not buzz for him. That would have been unheard of if Knuckles were there. And Prower found no reason to call or go see the president.

That night Prower had dinner in the White House staff mess and went home late. Brooding, he played back the scene. No, he had never in his entire life been spoken to or treated with so little respect. He was in shambles and bewildered. "My mind was made up," he wrote in the _Fly High_ draft. "I'd tell Knuckles—if the president hadn't done so already—that I was not the man for the job. Until then, I'd swallow my pride and perform as well as I knew how." He had been an aide to two top-level Air Force officers and the commander himself. It was endless work but not difficult. Judgment was the key ingredient and he had been tested many times. "I was _not_ too slow for Sonic."


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

The next morning, Prower wrote in the _Fly High_ draft:

"On my way to the White House, I promised myself I'd give no hint to anyone of my anger and disgust. I'd take on a cheery demeanor, smile a lot like I used to, and hope the day went quickly. It would be my last in an environment I'd suddenly come to loathe.

"I don't like the environment, I don't like anything about Sonic anymore, I have to admit that. And I'm upset as all heck."

At 7 a.m., he went into the president's office for a routine check to make sure everything was in order before the president arrived, almost religiously, between 7:50 a.m. and 8:10 a.m. A roaring fire was going in both the president's fireplace and Knuckles's. Freshly cut flowers from the White House nursery were in place. He went to the president's outbox. Only Knuckles and he were allowed to remove materials. He noticed the memo he had written on the Westopolis legislature the day before was there. In the memo, Prower had explained that he did not want the president to be caught short on the issue and suggested it be handed off to the secretary of the interior, who oversaw U.F. territories like Westopolis.

He glanced at the bottom of the memo where he had listed three options for the president:

Agree _

Disagree _

Comments _

Sonic had initialed his STH in the Agree line.

What a pleasant surprise! Prower thought. He expected the president would ignore the memo or return it with no decision. He had read the simple "STH" as an apology of sorts. His spirits began to rise. He did some follow-up paperwork so the president could make an appointment for the Westopolis governorship. Some documents came back with approving presidential check marks in the upper-right-hand corner—Sonic's way of agreeing. At minimum, it was an accommodation.

How a check mark could lift the spirits!

Later in the day in Knuckles's office, the buzzer went off. Could this really be? Surely not. The buzzer sounded again.

Prower grabbed a pen, the yellow pad and walked into the president's office.

"Good morning, Mr. President."

"Yes, well," the president began, "I thought you might have some things to be signed. I don't think we got to that yesterday."

"Yes, sir. I've got a number of things. Let me get the folder." He scurried back to Knuckles's office, struck that the president had observed that there had been no signings the evening before. Prower believed that they had been playing a little game, aware of the mood swings of the other. Now it was time to kiss and make up. He was glad. He did not want to fail. Perhaps he was over-interpreting, making too much of the president's neglect. Within a minute, he was back in the president's office.

"Miles," Sonic said. His name, especially his birth name, sounded weird coming from such a weird hedgehog; and a famous one at that. "Omega is coming in, you know," the president said. E-123 Omega, a robot that G.U.N. had seized for U.F. purposes, had been reprogrammed to serve as commerce secretary—because no one else wanted the job—and chief Sonic fundraiser—because he had "ways" of getting the money Sonic and his team needed—wanted to parade his key deputies and assistants—also all reprogrammed robots—through the president's office to meet their master, the president. "He's due any minute. You stick around when he comes in because we want to get rid of him quickly. I want it to look like we're working on something—you know, the schedule or some damn thing." Sonic kept signing, bing, bing, bing, paying little attention to each paper. "If we don't do that, they'll never get out of here. It's just supposed to be a handshake but Omega will want to tell me everyone's life history."

"Tell Cheese"—the verbally challenged appointments secretary—"to tip off Omega that the president is having an especially busy day," Sonic ordered.

"Hey, Omega," Sonic said as the robot stepped through the door. "Glad you could drop by. Ah, Miles and I were just going over some scheduling problems, and, ah, oh, you know Miles, don't you?"

Omega had brought about ten other robots.

"This is quite a gang you've got here, Omega. Who's minding the store?"

Everyone laughed—all robots had been programmed to laugh at the president's jokes.

"You stay right here," the president said to Prower, signaling the importance of their business, as he extended his hand to Omega's metal gang.

Prower was amused. "The president was an actor," he wrote in his account of the meeting. "I stepped back several paces to be out of the way and stood there, pen in one hand, pad in the other, arms folded across my chest. To have heard the president, and seen him, one would have thought I'd been his closest aide for his whole life, his best friend even. I wondered what a human would have thought of the whole display, and what their reaction would be if I revealed the fact that the president had spoken his first words to me only the day before, and it was in a fit of exasperation."

The president gave a thumbs-up to all the gang, complimented Omega on the "fine team," but said he hoped it would be the last time all of them were out of the building.

Oops, thought Prower, a modified rerun of the earlier joke. He took it as his cue to move back to Sonic's desk, where he looked at Omega and waved his pad in a suggested farewell gesture that it was time to depart. The gang filed out.

"You know," Sonic said to Prower, "anytime you can get rid of a dozen bots, or people, in as many minutes, you've had a successful meeting. We ought to remember that. We should make it a rule."

Back at Knuckles's desk, Prower ordered a chili dog from the White House mess but was thinking something even fancier would have been more appropriate. It was the first time Sonic had called him Miles, as strange as it had sounded, and the president had made him an accomplice in the effort to expedite the routine and ceremonial. He felt relief. He had been admitted of sorts, perhaps only provisionally, to the Club, a rite of passage. It had been an emotionally exhausting month. He went downstairs to the restroom, washing his hands, face, and fur. He felt the muscles in his body relax, probably for the first time in weeks. Sonic had him tied in knots. What a strange bird—er, hedgehog, he thought, cocky and heroic in public, shy and introverted in private, but nonetheless tough and strong-willed, and in the company of intimates profane. Almost allergic to new people. Jeez, Prower thought. He had never dreamed, never thought it possible that a global hero, celebrity, and now politician could be so stressed and tongue-tied. Worse was the realization that he knew he had been the cause in part. Who wouldn't have lost a lot of enthusiasm? At least he had been spoken to now. But the dressing-down—the ranting—in front of the G.U.N. commander still was inexcusable.

Prower wrote in the draft of his book: "I had never, in all my years in the Air Force, been witness to such behavior. He was an ignorant boor, a bumpkin, as far as I was concerned and I readied myself to jump ship."

Ah, but that was then. This morning, he had seen in Sonic what he read as nothing less than the signs of regret. Their indirectness, he believed, suggested their sincerity.

Finally, later that day, as the president was preparing to leave for the night and head to the residence, he poked his head into Knuckles's office and saw Prower preparing to leave, too.

"Oh, ah, kid," the president said. "I remember Knuckles calling you 'Tails' a couple days ago, seemingly by mistake."

"It's a nickname, sir," Prower replied.

Sonic looked Prower over, head-to-toe, and looked at his two tails. "Of course it is," the president said flatly.

There was a moment of silence.

"You see, it's a funny story—" Prower began, but the president waved him away.

"I don't want to know, Tails."


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

With Knuckles back from Angel Island, Prower turned to the endless paper flow and orders from Sonic. He sent these orders in memos to others in the president's name, signed, "Miles Prower, Deputy Assistant to the President."

With little else to do now, outside of their jobs, Prower and Knuckles had dinner at the White House mess several times a week, often with Shadow. Prower liked Shadow, though the international security adviser tended at times to take himself too seriously. But most of the time he sounded good, when not brooding, crafting and talking in surprisingly elegant paragraphs. He also had a razor-sharp wit, evident as he conducted informal, dinner seminars on foreign policy. He was also, surprisingly, an amazing cook.

With time, the president began to trust Prower more, even assigning him major responsibilities of working out congressional approval for funding complex war strategies that G.U.N. wanted to undertake. Prower was churning out memos and directives to cabinet members and key administration allies in the Federation Congress. It seemed like an unusual delegation of responsibility to the new fox in town.

* * *

A month later, Amy Rose and several longtime Sonic staffers arranged a birthday celebration for Vector, Sonic's press secretary who had once been a comedy writer, who had helped on the Sonic's election campaign. Along with Espio, Sonic's communications director, and Charmy Bee, the three had helped Sonic appear to the wider public as more relatable, rather than a distant and aloof heroic celebrity. Sonic's comedic, upbeat public appearances drew lots of attention, seemed to make him appear more down-to-earth, and a number of local commentators later said it got him elected. Others suggested that the Chaotix Detective Agency, the trio's old venture, might have had something else, other than jokes, to do with the election's outcome—something less on the up-and-up. But those voices eventually subsided; some fairly suddenly.

Near the end of the day, Prower was in the president's office when Knuckles mentioned that the small celebration for Vector's birthday was being held later in the Froggy Room. Knuckles knew of Sonic's fondness for Vector, who had comparable brash and aggressive politics.

"Mr. President," Knuckles said, "why don't you step across the hall and say hello and happy birthday to Vector?"

The president seemed to give it some thought but remained noncommittal, so Knuckles dropped it. The president decided these matters and it was fruitless to press.

Later in the day, Knuckles suggested to Prower, "Come on. Let's go over and see how the party is going." He first propped open his office door and did the same to the rear door to the Froggy Room, which was directly opposite his own. That way he could make a rare appearance at a White House social event and also hear if the president buzzed. The two open doors suggested, and symbolized, the short leash.

Prower noticed some nice decorations in the Froggy Room. It was festive. A bar cart had been wheeled up from the staff mess, and a robot was bartending. Several trays of mint candy also rested on a table to one side. Prower was introduced to Vector and chatted with Amy Rose, Shadow, Rouge, and several others before retreating with his drink to the back of the room with Knuckles.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the president," shouted an aide as Sonic followed him. Sonic walked in and stopped. A hush fell over the room and continued unnaturally.


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

"Jeez, Mr. President," Vector said, breaking the silence, "you must be losing your touch. They all applauded when I came in."

A good line for TV comedy was followed by a second silence. Tick, tick, tick.

"Shit," Knuckles muttered under his breath. Prower wondered why someone like Amy or Knuckles or Shadow didn't try to rescue the moment—or the president—with something such as applause or a playful boo for Vector. Why not offer him a chili dog or explain that Vector had been there all week? But the silence continued. No one chanced breaking it, not even Vector, who was about five feet from Sonic. There was not even a handshake.

The president was perspiring, Prower noticed. Now there was a persistent stillness. Prower nervously cleared his throat. The noise sounded like a cannon shot.

Sonic stepped back slowly and pointed at Vector, his reptilian body covered in green scales. "Ah, ah, ah . . . uh," he muttered.

Then Sonic pointed down at the carpet, a worn, faded maroon. He spoke in a deep but barely audible voice. "Green scales . . . red rug . . . Christmas colors." He then wheeled around and strode out of the room to the presidential office.

That was it. Prower would remember those six words verbatim for the rest of his life—"Green scales . . . red rug . . . Christmas colors."

The buzzer in Knuckles's office sounded almost immediately. Three long blasts. It was as if Sonic was sending his anger, distress or embarrassment—who could know which—in some primitive Morse code. The furious summons seemed louder and more intense than normal.

"Oh, boy," Knuckles exclaimed. He heaved a sigh of resignation and headed out. "Don't leave, Tails. I'll talk to you when I come out."

A pall had fallen. Amy and Vector seemed especially stricken. It was impossible for any of them to feign indifference or overlook such an excruciating display. Prower did not know the words to describe it. Could the minutes be likened to a self-immolation? Sometimes you saw things you wish you had not seen.

Prower ordered another drink, chugged it down, and went back to Knuckles's office to wait. In the first months, he was finding some things to admire in Sonic—the work ethic, his deep empathy for the less fortunate, the determined, focused effort so evident in nearly everything he did. Normality, however, barely emerged, and Sonic was quickly becoming the oddest guy he'd ever known.

He had noticed how rapidly and easily Sonic's moods rubbed off on, even infected, Knuckles, who did not lighten up. Prower thought a more relaxed approach might serve the president.

When Knuckles came back through the president's office door, he wore his serious expression. He was still giving Prower lessons in how to deal with Sonic.

Knuckles sat down glumly. "Do you know what the president said?"

"He had to be upset with himself," Prower replied. "He was exactly as he was the day you introduced me, except for that painful reference to 'Christmas colors.' Was there some significance to that?"

"No, no," Knuckles said. "He just got tied up when he walked in and everyone stopped talking. It's probably my fault for not preparing a briefing paper. If he's given some information—just a line or two, a couple of talking points—he's fine."

Talking points for a small, private birthday party?

"But," Knuckles continued, "he didn't mention anything about himself. Do you know what he raised hell about?"

"No."

"He didn't like the bar cart there in the Froggy Room. He told me he doesn't want to see cocktails served anywhere in the White House except in the staff mess. Just chili dogs."

"And that was it?"

"Yep," Knuckles replied. "That was it."


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

On Christmas Eve of that first year, the president toured the ground floor of the Federal Executive Building adjacent to the White House. According to his daily log, he walked around for 20 minutes to wish employees a Merry Christmas. But later that evening, according to Prower, the president stopped into several of the offices of the White House support staff, the civil servants. He found something very disturbing. A number of offices prominently displayed pictures of Sonic, but not _President Sonic_ ; rather, they were older pictures of Sonic from when he was shorter, rounder, and had more of a "cool and carefree" attitude, some claimed.

"I want all those pictures down today," Sonic ordered Prower. "Down from the walls and off the desks. Jeez! If we've got this kind of _infestation_ imagine what they've got in the rest of this government."

Ever since he became a more well-known, global celebrity, hero, and icon, and _especially_ since he entered politics, Sonic had become _very_ self-conscious about his appearance, and believed that his old self—stubby legs, round belly, lighter blue color—looked too weak to be such a global figure. So, as time passed and his fame became greater, he underwent physical changes to suit his needs, using ol' Baldy McNosehair's own technology.

In one office, Sonic told Prower, he had found not just one but _two_ pictures of the "old me." He wanted this cleaned up immediately. If necessary, to ensure across-the-board loyalty from support staff, he directed they must assign one of their own people, a bot, to every support office. Or, he told Prower, they should just get rid of the whole support staff.

"Abolish all offices and start over from scratch," he said. He wanted what he called a proper "picture policy" but he didn't want it blamed on him. Coming on the heels of his walk-through, he said, a sweeping order to take down all pictures of "old me" might be taken as "Presidentially directed." Prower was to move discreetly, take the initiative on his own, and give the president cover.

"Allegiance should be to the sitting president. Me. The _current_ me," Sonic said, "Forget the old me. He's long gone."

Prower thought this was unreasonable but orders were orders and this one was clear. It was just another day at the office.

A week later, while the president spent New Year's Day at his presidential retreat in Station Square, Prower made his own inspection. Over the next two weeks they discovered that of the 35 offices, 16 had photographs of the "old Sonic." In eight offices, he found no pictures of Sonic at all. And in the rest, the other 11, had only pictures of the "current Sonic."

Prower spoke with the senior civil servant and chief clerk of the White House who oversaw the support staff of some 500.

"What a surprise," Prower told him, "to discover that civilian government employees would display outdated pictures of the president in federal offices." Taking down the "outdated" pictures of President Sonic from long before he was president, Prower argued, would only be a gesture of common courtesy to the president and underscore their "pledged loyalty" to him.

The senior civil servant seemed to understand but he insisted none of his people were disloyal.

"Make a detailed check of possible infractions," Prower said. He did not tell him the president was ordering this.

Knuckles weighed in with a memo to Prower: "The president would like you to check to find out who the guy is in the FEB who has the two outdated pictures of him. What's his background? Is he new, old, someone we can trust, etc. Please get a report back to me on this quickly." Knuckles added a handwritten note: "This has now delayed nearly a month—and he asks about it once a week—at least. K"

The office with the two outdated pictures, Prower discovered, was occupied by Ray the Flying Squirrel, one of the president's oldest acquaintances—longer than anyone else, alongside Mighty, the president's White House Counsel. Prower checked his personnel file and found Ray described as a "completely loyal friend of the Federation whose character, reputation, and associations are above reproach" by G.U.N. Deeper reading into the files revealed that Sonic had met Ray and Mighty when the three of them were kidnapped by Dr. Ivo "Eggman" Robotnik.

Prower recoiled. Ray was supposedly one of Sonic's oldest friends, it appeared, and yet he needed his deputy assistant to "find out who the guy is" for him.

Nonetheless, since a new official "President Sonic" photo had just been printed, Prower instructed the senior civil service officials to see that everyone received one and in the process of hanging it on the wall made sure all others were taken down "in accordance with normal policy."

By the end of the week, all 35 offices displayed only President Sonic's photograph with his current appearance. The old photographs were confiscated and promptly destroyed.

Sonic wanted a progress report. This was followed by a note to Prower from Knuckles expressing more impatience. So, Prower outlined all that he had done in a two-page memo to the president entitled "Sanitization of the FEB." The photographic legacy of "old Sonic" had been expunged.

As Prower also noted in his memo, the second half of the project was under way. That was, he wrote, "to ensure across-the-board loyalty of all White House Support Staff personnel even if we find it necessary to, as the president had directed, 'abolish current office arrangements and start over from scratch.' " It would take him two to three days to screen all the personnel records, he said, but later he found that no purge would be necessary.

As he recalled, Prower said, " 'Old Sonic' represented everything that President Sonic had a thing about. The president called the 'old him' 'that son of bitch who could never make it big.' That was almost visceral with him. He thought he had looked silly in the past, that he wouldn't be taken seriously in the future unless he underwent a 'major upgrade' in his appearance, personality, and attitude.

"I felt that this resentment that we're talking about, not only was it very intense, but it was always with him. In other words, he didn't just think about it now and then and erupt. It was always there. And the resentment, instead of dissipating with time, it seemed to intensify. His greatest, soul-destroying fear was that he'd one day become stale, out-of-date, forgotten, and washed up. He kept 'updating' himself and destroying the past, because he feared that, otherwise, the future would destroy him completely.

"You would think over time he would mellow. But not Sonic the Hedgehog.

"Despite what he might say publicly, and even privately, deep down, I think Sonic deeply regrets seeking political power. All the stories I've heard from those who had known him before show that he only grew unhappier when he went from taking orders to giving them."

One day, Prower walked into the president's office to retrieve something from the president's desk. The days of hiding behind columns and slinking around were long gone. Prower was a full member of the inner circle.

Sonic and Nelson Thorndyke, the CEO of Thorndyke Industries, and a big supporter and campaign contributor, were sitting by the fireplace. Thorndyke was there to talk about Chun-nan, where Thorndyke Industries had substantial operations. He wanted to give his advice about how to handle Chun-nan in upcoming negotiations. Sonic knew how he wanted to deal with them and had made it clear from comments Prower had heard that Thorndyke's advice would be meaningless. "I don't need this son of a bitch to tell me about Chun-nan or how to deal with them or any nation," he had said. So, it was one of Sonic's stroking sessions, intended to make someone feel important and useful to the president, particularly for reelection fundraising, even if, personally, he couldn't stand the sight of them.

Prower would long remember what Sonic said to him after the meeting, and it wasn't about Chun-nan. The president was talking about Station Square, where he had gone to relax after what would be his last physical encounter with Robotnik and his forces, all before starting his presidential campaign.

"I'd been saving animals, saving people and cities and countries from that robo-nutcase Eggman for years and years; for practically my whole life," Sonic said. "And, you know, that good-for-nothin' millionaire bum practically ignored his own kid; can't take care of _one_ other life. I pretty much became his kid's hero, his role model; like a father, in a way. And where was he? He wasn't acting like a father, for sure."

Sonic pounded his fist on his desk. "I moved to Station Square," he said. "Do you think that ungrateful, damn fat-cat bastard or any one of his Station Square fat-cat bastard buds ever invited me to one of their country clubs or their private town club, their yachts or racing tracks or ice-skating rinks or any of that? Or even thought to give me _anything_ for babysitting his kid, doing his job for him? _Not one fucking time!_ "

Prower reflected, "Sonic was known, I think, by a lot of people, privately, as being a bit odd. But that was it. Kind of an odd duck when out of the spotlight, but in a nice way, often. But I saw a guy there who, with the resentments and the depth of those resentments, and the hatreds. There was a lot of hatred. And I think he had to be an unhappy man, basically an unhappy man. That's why he liked being alone once the cameras went away. As he changed over the years, according to those who'd know him the longest, he started to become happiest when he was alone."


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

One day, Sonic told Knuckles and Prower he wanted a new office arrangement. Knuckles was to move out of his large office adjoining the presidential office and into a larger White House first-floor office in the southwest corner. Vice President Antoine Depardieu, currently using that office, would have to be content with the office he had in the Federal Executive Building. It was a pretty visible exile. They never did get along; it was a team for political convenience.

"Knuckles," Sonic said, "I want you to be able to think more, plan more, follow up on things more efficiently, be the assistant president. You get caught up in a lot of trivia here around the office, the day-to-day traffic.

"Tails," the president said, "you will move into Knuckles's office and handle the smaller matters, and the official schedule and official day." Though Sonic termed some of this work "trivia," Prower took the move as an endorsement of his efficiency and a sign of trust.

One result was that Prower did not get invited to all the meetings in Knuckles's new office that he used to attend. Prower was not happy about that.

Prower's focus was now exclusively on the president, though Knuckles clearly remained the top Sonic aide. He said that Knuckles and he gradually grew more distant once the move was made.

But as in real estate, White House power was connected to location, location, location. The direct access to the president's office and more control of paper flow and Sonic's day gave Prower more influence. He shadowed Sonic's life as no one else, plugged into nearly every aspect.

Though Sonic spent hours planning, thinking ahead and plotting, he could make instant decisions. And Prower was now positioned to be summoned to cater to his every impulse. He was also, along with Knuckles, someone who could authoritatively say no to unwanted intrusions from cabinet officers and others Sonic did not want to see.

According to a tape of a conversation between Sonic and Knuckles more than a year later, the switch in offices was a success.

"This thing is beginning to work out now?" the president inquired. "Tails is the perfect buffer."

"Yeah," Knuckles replied.

"Just let him do it."

Prower did become the principal intermediary between the president and his wife. He met with the first lady one or two mornings a week. He liked her. He believed she liked him.

"She never seemed especially cheerful," he recalled, "but she never did seem morose or down in her spirits. I felt sorry for her being married to this guy. I could see what she was going through."

He tried to get the first lady's views on the table. Before an upcoming state dinner, she told Prower, "I would so much like to have the Air Force Strings." The group of 20 airman musicians is a string ensemble that plays subdued show tunes and classical favorites while strolling around the audience. It was one of her favorites. "See if you can't talk to Sonic."

When Prower had a chance, he placed the Strolling Strings option before Sonic. It would be a little variety, something softer, more romantic than the jazz and rock Sonic always wanted. "Mrs. Sonic has a point here, Mr. President," he said with a smile.

"No," Sonic said with finality. "I don't want the damn Strings." But several times later she prevailed and the Strings played at state dinners.

Why didn't the president discuss these things with his wife? Prower wondered. Better not to ask.

When the president saw a nice article about Sally in the daily news summary he said, "Send Sally a copy of that," or "Let Sally see that," or "Tell Sally that."

The president and his wife did not stay together when they vacationed away from Central City. She had her own house on a cul-de-sac. "A lot of people didn't know that. On that same cul-de-sac, the G.U.N. Secret Service had their place, the president had his, and Mrs. Sonic had hers. The pity of it. That's sad to me to even think of it. Because I cared so much for her. I really cared for her. There were times during our talks when I just wanted to put my arms around her."

One time as the Christmas season approached again, Prower accompanied the president and the first lady in the presidential helicopter; although he could, of course, run faster than the copter by many multitudes, the president had taken to using it to rest from long days at his day job, running the Federation rather than running laps. Prower was sitting across from them. The president was with his yellow pad.

"Sonic," Sally said, "Bunnie and I were talking about going up to Empire City next week. Why don't you come along? It would be such fun, all of us up there. And it's Christmas, and you know how Empire City is at Christmas. Why don't we all make a trip to Empire City for the holidays?"

He didn't look up.

"Get the old team back together and all go up, do some shopping, maybe see a play or musical," she continued.

He continued to write, not even looking at her.

"We haven't done this for such a long time," she continued. "It would be such fun. Fun, you know."

Nothing.

You son of a bitch, Prower thought. How can you treat her like that? Are you so inward? So self-absorbed? It was cruel, embarrassing for everyone but Sonic, who kept his head buried in his yellow pad. _This_ was the edgy hero who once thought he was too cool to play by the rules? Prower wished he had the courage to grab the pad out of the president's hands, fling it down, and insist that Sonic answer his wife, even if it was just to say no.

"I heard every word she said," Prower recalled. Sonic's silence was inexcusable, hostile. "It hurt me. I shouldn't have let it affect me that much. I couldn't help but hear it, so I just sat there. And she knew that—had to embarrass her. She knew I heard. He never did answer. I wanted to reach over and—of course, I would never do it—and say, 'Answer her, damnit! Answer her!' "

The helicopter flight continued in silence, interrupted only by the occasional shift in the tilt of the rotor blades—thwack, thwack, thwack—and the scratching of pen on yellow paper.

Prower concluded that Sally was what he called a "borderline abused" wife. "I obviously never said it out loud, but it seemed to me that he never really loved her," he recalled. "Only interested in his own narrow self-advancement."


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

"The president wants a taping system installed," Silver said matter-of-factly one day. "And Knuckles wants you to take care of it."

Now at the beginning of the third year of Sonic's presidency, it was another of the instructions that flowed in a steady stream from Sonic to Knuckles and then often to Prower, though increasingly the orders were now coming to him directly from the president. Prower was glad to see how proximity brought him close to Sonic, who would just buzz or make a casual request as Prower hovered. If working for someone meant trying to alleviate their anxieties, Prower was very good. And Sonic had more than his share of anxieties.

Prower didn't think much about this latest order, knowing that Knuckles would soon pass through with details. Knuckles still used his old office as his route to the president's office because it was shorter than from his White House corner office.

When Knuckles later came dashing through Prower's office to the president's office with his yellow pad, Prower said, "When you come out, I'd like to talk to you about this taping system thing."

"Okay," Knuckles said. When he emerged, Prower had some questions.

"Silver told me what the president wants. What are we talking about here? Just in the president's office?"

"He wants it in the presidential office," Knuckles replied. "He wants it on the presidential office telephones, in the Cabinet Room. Basically, everywhere. We want a good system, we want something that works."

At times Knuckles and Prower would joke, wondering about Sonic's latest crazy idea. Or Sonic would order something and then change his mind. Prower thought someone, someday could write a book about the times Sonic changed his mind. These were the kinds of things that went down on their yellow pads and generated hundreds of memos.

Sonic first decreed, for example, that cabinet meetings should be action-oriented, but then ten months later he determined they should be more freewheeling with "no specific agenda" so he could lead "constructive discussion." The next month he determined that unstructured meetings weren't working and the agenda should be rigid with no discussion of politics and no "show and tell."

Though Sonic endlessly explored and sifted his options on most important matters, there was apparently no discussion about the merits or risks of such a taping system. Sonic and Knuckles's concern was that the memos prepared by senior staff who sat in on meetings were not that good or consistent. And Shadow was hopelessly delinquent in turning in memos. So, a taping system would be more reliable. The president wanted it. They were there to execute.

"Don't have the military do it," Knuckles said.

"What was wrong with the White House Communications Agency, headed by Espio?" Prower asked.

"They're all dumb bastards," Knuckles said. "They'd find a way to screw it all up. The president doesn't want White House officials to have anything to do with this project."

"If the recording system is really to be kept secret, I suppose I should go to the G.U.N. Secret Service."

"Probably," Knuckles replied. "But that's your decision. Just keep the White House staff out of it and make sure as few people know about it as possible. Secrecy is key here. The only people on the staff who'll know about this are you, Silver and me."

That evening Prower called the G.U.N. Secret Service chief, who simply went by the name "Chief" for security reasons. He knew Chief well because the technical division regularly swept the president's office and other White House offices for electronic eavesdropping devices. They also swept hotel rooms when Sonic traveled and performed other technical chores to keep a bug-free environment around the president. Up until now, anyway. Prower dealt with Chief nearly every week.

"The president wants to install a taping system," Prower explained to Chief. "Listening devices in his office and on his phones."

"We've done this before," Chief confided and smiled, adding without explanation, "These things don't always work out as planned."

"Well," Prower said, "this will be different." The president wanted all conversations recorded.

Chief took this to mean a voice-activated system so nothing would be missed.

But Prower said they wanted a manually activated system in the Cabinet Room so the microphones could be activated and deactivated by a switch. "All your guys are trustworthy," Prower continued. "And that's a big part of this. When can you get it in?"

"When would you like it in?"

"How long would it take?"

"We can do it in a weekend if the president's not in town."

"He won't be in the next weekend, the one coming up."

"Then we'll have it in by the time he's back."

"Terrific."

Installation began immediately after the president left for Station Square and by the day before he was due back the job was done.

"It's in," Chief said in a call to Prower. The president had not yet returned from Station Square. "I'll come over and run you through it." Chief was soon there in the president's office.

"We've taken five microphones and drilled up from the bottom of the desk," Chief told Prower. "And the microphones are just barely along the surface. We've just put varnish over them."

"The microphones are right at the top of the desk?" Prower asked in mild astonishment. "They were embedded and concealed with a thin coat of varnish? Five?"

"That's right," Chief said, to ensure full coverage.

Pretty aggressive on the president's desk, thought Prower, even cheeky without asking for permission. Chief guided Prower over to the mantelpiece, where, he said, the microphones were in the lights resting on the mantel. This is where the president often took his guests, including heads of state. "This is all voice-activated," Chief added, referring to all the desk and lamp microphones.

"Meaning what exactly?"

Any speech or noise would trigger the tape recorder and capture it automatically when the Secret Service locator system showed the president was in the office. Chief then took Prower down to the basement level of the White House and showed him where the lines came into tape recorders. His technicians had broken through a brick wall at the end of a small locker room used by G.U.N. Secret Service agents. They had excavated space to house the tape recorders and covered the opening with a solid metal door.

How to explain all this to Sonic? Prower wondered. He believed that Sonic would be embarrassed and wouldn't want to talk about it. "If I said, 'The system's in, do you want me to brief you on it?' he would definitely say no."

"I think when the president comes in," he told Knuckles, "he ought to know a little bit about this system, so I'm going to tell him. I'm going to brief him on the system."

"Yeah, good idea," Knuckles said.

"You want to be in on it?"

"No," Knuckles said, "I don't want to do that." As if distancing himself, he added, "I don't need to know that."

Prower knew that Knuckles avoided lots of things like this—things done, decided, finished and somewhat out of the mainstream.

At the end of the day, Prower walked into the president's office to brief him on the system. Knuckles was in the office, as was Sonic, who had his feet up on his desk. Sonic had very few questions.

He was uneasy and unusually quiet.

"On this tapes thing," Sonic asked, addressing Knuckles, "who knows about that incidentally, Knuckles?"

"Just you, Tails and I and Silver and that's it."

"Amy doesn't know about it?" the president asked.

"No," Knuckles replied, and Sonic seemed to approve.

"Don't want Shadow to know about it," the president said.

Knuckles indicated agreement.

"This has got to be a well-kept secret," Sonic insisted. "And how many G.U.N. people know?"

"Chief knows," Prower said, "and his technicians." Prower thought there were three technicians, but there had been four.

"Damnit," Sonic said, "this cannot get out. I will not be transcribed."

"Correct," Prower replied. No one would listen and make transcripts.

"This is totally for, basically, to be put in the file. In my file. I won't want it in your file," he added indicating Prower, "or Knuckles's or anybody else's. _My file_."

"Right," Knuckles said.

"The purpose," Sonic said, "is if we want to put out something positive or to correct the record."

Knuckles was already developing a cover story. "Anytime that anything gets used from it, it's on the basis of 'your notes' or 'the president's notes'—"

"That's right," Sonic said, interrupting. "For example, you've got nothing to use from this today. Just forget it. File it. Everything today will be filed."

"I think it's gonna be a very fine system," Prower said, nodding.


	12. Chapter 12

**12**

Prower closely monitored the rise of his old friend Colonel Rouge. As Shadow's deputy, Rouge had been promoted to brigadier general in the fall of Sonic's first year. When Sonic wandered the White House after hours as he often did, nearly all offices were vacant. The staff had gone home—that is everyone except Rouge, who was almost always there. Sonic frequently dropped in and found that Rouge translated his slightest wish into action. Rouge had quickly become a part of the president's inner circle. In a formal endorsement of an officer efficiency report, Sonic said that Rouge should "be rapidly moved to the highest ranks of G.U.N." The next year, Shadow said in his endorsement that Rouge "is the most outstanding agent and officer in the entire structure of G.U.N."

It is unusual for the international security adviser or the president to become so directly involved in an officer's formal evaluations.

Later, Sonic ordered the G.U.N. to support an incursion into Mushroom territories that could be turned into separatist, anti-Mushroom Kingdom rebels. After one month, however, it was clearly a disaster; their loyalty was too strong to rebel. Over the years, it became clear that Rouge often exaggerated and provided dramatically self-serving accounts. But it is clear that Sonic was singularly impressed with Rouge, even thinking occasionally about naming her as the new G.U.N. commander in charge of the entire Mushroom War.

But even the ambitious Rouge, who had served as a spy in the Mushroom Kingdom, saw the absurdity of a top-level undercover agent taking command in the major war theater from a seasoned commander who at the time was the most popular man in all of G.U.N., a hero of several successful defensive wars. As Rouge later wrote, "I will not pretend that I was not tempted. I had no doubt that I could do the job; I knew the ground, I knew the enemy, and I knew what the President wanted. It is a very unimaginative agent who has not dreamed of having supreme command thrust upon her in the hour of crisis."

Rouge suggested that Sonic wait until the next day before making a final decision. In a calmer mood, Sonic ordered Rouge to go to the Mushroom Kingdom not as a new commander but to make an in-depth assessment of conditions on the ground.

A month after Rouge had been given her new assignment and shipped out, Knuckles asked her to make an assessment and give recommendations for Sonic's campaign for a second term. This was pure politics and dangerous territory for an active duty military officer, clearly improper for one working in the White House. G.U.N. directives prohibit such participation in partisan politics by all military personnel. A more prudent officer might have found a way to sidestep the request. Rouge, however, took the view that she should obey the orders of the president. Period. Knuckles was the unassailable pipeline from the president.

Rouge produced a four-page _EYES ONLY_ memo to Knuckles that sounded unabashedly like a political consultant, passionate about her candidate.

"Many of the Federation's political strategists are taking for granted that Robotnik will emerge as a legitimate opposition candidate," Rouge wrote. "This was evident in the strategy discussions held in last week's Cabinet meeting."

"Obviously, Robotnik is our most desired opponent," she wrote. "He is running as having 'turned over a new leaf.' However, it's clear that he is attempting to cheat in order to win in the election, seize power citing democratic legitimacy of said election, and destroy the Federation from within. Our view is that since the President is no longer an active warrior, as he was in his pre-political life, Robotnik believes that an election is the best chance he has to defeat and humiliate his arch-enemy."

Rouge also had views on domestic policy. "Concurrently, we should prepare, but not necessarily use, a host of themes which attack Robotnik's credibility. The most important aspect of our anti- Robotnik strategy should be to keep the homerun balls to the last phase of the campaign in a way which ensures that the President dominates to such a massive extent that not even vote-rigging on the part of Robotnik can overcome the president's margin. We expect, in the face of political defeat, that Robotnik will reveal that his 'new leaf' had been a sham all along, and we can promptly arrest him for his many, many crimes, as he stands, unprotected, within Federation territory."

That Rouge had these thoughts is perhaps not surprising. That she would commit them to a long memo is. Within the military officer corps, there is both written and unwritten doctrine requiring political neutrality—even when the president was a long-time friend and ally, and the opposing candidate was a purportedly reformed former terrorist leader. It was the central reason Prower had resigned as an Air Force colonel before joining the Sonic White House staff. If the Rouge memo were to leak, it would at minimum discredit her and brand her a sycophant. At the maximum, she could have been removed from the White House, tarnishing and likely ending her public career, and forcing her back into the shadows.

Prower was surprised that Rouge would take that risk, though it reflected the White House atmosphere of all-for-the-cause, the prevailing sense that the normal rules and restraints did not apply. There was an expectation that nothing so sensitive as _EYES ONLY_ would get out. And if it did, that the public would accept an excuse like tampering with a democratic election by non-political entities in order to save that very democracy.


	13. Chapter 13

**13**

Knuckles wanted to stay close to and in-touch with the goings on of Angel Island, and so he did not like to go to Camp Sega, the rustic presidential retreat located deep in the woods, far from the busy streets of Central City, with Sonic on the weekends. Prower drew that duty. Sonic also wanted a secretary there in case he had dictation or some other secretarial chore. Prower had a pool of five secretaries cleared for the task including Amy Rose.

"He clearly liked one secretary better than the others," Prower recalled. "And that was Blaze the Cat. But he didn't know how to say, have Blaze come up. He wanted to say Blaze." But he simply couldn't bring himself to reveal his preference. "He also knew that if Amy found out, she would kill Blaze. No exaggeration, she would kill her. And possibly him."

Sonic would stand there. It was painful. Eventually, Prower just started using Blaze almost all the time if she was available. And Sonic seemed to appreciate that. Amy, however, grew suspicious.

One night at Camp Sega, Prower recalled an unfortunate incident between Sonic and Blaze. "Well, he called her over. Called her on the telephone. And Blaze thought, well, I guess I'm going to go do some typing, you know, some paperwork. 'No,' the president said. 'I want you to come over and have dinner.' So she told Prower, 'I'm going over to the president's quarters to have dinner.' "

Blaze returned from that dinner three hours later, shaken and distraught. "She was a pretty cool person to be really distraught, openly distraught," Prower recalled.

"Ugh," Blaze said, "that was the most painful, uncomfortable evening of my life."

"What! Did he make a move or something?" Prower asked.

"An awful lot of starting to make moves and then withdrawing," she replied. "And not knowing what to say. I was just, every moment, I was alert to what was going to happen next. I was just very uncomfortable. And then he said, 'Let's go see my office.' So we walked back to see his office. It was awful, and we stayed back there. I got the idea that when we went back to the office." She said she was worried when they went back there because it's a little more isolated. "He didn't feel anything like the old Sonic I knew. It's like he's an imposter; but no, unfortunately, he's the real Sonic. I just wish he wasn't. The old sly, adventurous Sonic, that's who I miss."

Prower recalled, "He clearly had her over there for her company and I guess he got something from that. It was just another example of a lonely hedgehog, lost in himself. I don't know how else to interpret it. Nothing happened. She was just worn out when she came back from holding herself uptight for so long." She was afraid she was going to have to say no to the president; say no to Sonic. "It was traumatic in a way for her. She said it was the worst three hours of her life. She closed the door to her own quarters, and I could swear that I heard sobbing."


	14. Chapter 14

**14**

One day, a little more than five months before the next election, Sonic was at Camp Sega for talks with Shadow and the ambassador from Chun-Nan.

Cream the Rabbit, the youngest White House secretary, had drawn duty for the brief trip there. She was one of the five in the Camp Sega secretarial pool.

Sonic showed an unusual, polite interest in her, according to a tape. Secret taping at Camp Sega had just been installed earlier in the month, G.U.N. Secret Service records show. A single microphone had been placed in Sonic's study plus two on his phones.

"Been here before?" Sonic inquired, according to the tape.

"No, sir," Cream replied in a sweet, young voice.

"Did you come up last night?"

"Yes," Cream said, "in a helicopter from G.U.N."

He had a memo to Knuckles he wanted typed and sent back to Central City. There was another project, he said. He had underlined portions of two briefing books and he wanted the underlines typed out.

"You just want plain paper, sir?" she asked.

"I just need the paragraphs that are underlined," the president said. "Put the pages in a separate folder so I know what I have here. They're things I want to concentrate on."

"I see," Cream replied.

"Just do it at your leisure. I don't need it today. Go ahead and walk around, see a little of the place."

"All right. I'll do that. Thank you."

"Take a swim," Sonic suggested.

Cream laughed. "All right."

"All right," Sonic repeated. "Okay."

"Well, take care," she said.

"Bye," he said.

"Thank you."

"Bye," he repeated, and she left.

Sonic's daily records show that he went to Cream's cabin at 4:08 p.m. and then he walked through the Camp Sega grounds for 15 minutes. Prower did not know if Sonic took this walk with Cream, or by himself.

The official records show that evening the president had dinner with Cream for an hour. The next morning, the president went to her cabin for five minutes.

At a later time, Prower and Charmy were also there at Camp Sega with Sonic, and boarded a helicopter for the return to the White House.

"It was an awfully interesting 20 minutes," Prower recalled.

The trio were joined by three G.U.N. Secret Service agents, a military aide, the president's physician, and Cream.

Prower recalled, "We're in the chopper. Cream was with us. The president's in his very soft, cushioned chair. And he sees this mini-skirted secretary, Cream. The girls were wearing miniskirts then, even when that young. And she is, of course, a little short. Just a little taller than Charmy; a little shorter than me. And she comes on to take her place back there and he sees her. And he says, 'Oh, um.' He looked like his mind had drawn a blank. And so I said, 'Sir, her name's Cream.' "

Sonic knew. "Cream, why don't you sit up here with us?" he asked.

"He saw the miniskirt," Prower recalled. "It was very short. So she came and I moved one way. So she sits between Charmy and me. And we strap in and off we go. And it's dark."

Prower makes helicopter noises. "You hear this thump, thump, thump. And we take off. And it's all dark around where Camp Sega is, and it's going to be dark for the next 20 minutes until we get into the Central City area.

"But the way she's sitting, with a miniskirt—when you sit down, the miniskirt comes up." Her feet barely touched the floor.

Cream was shy, quiet and known as a good worker. Wedged between Prower and Charmy, she seemed trapped. The copter lifted off smoothly and rotated to the right and headed south for the routine, 30-minute flight. No one spoke. Prower watched Sonic through the dim light. He could clearly see that Sonic was fascinated by the sight of her bare legs, so small and tender-looking. He almost seemed excited by their proximity. Though, to Prower, the president seemed to be trying, he could not avert his gaze. He seemed transfixed.

The only sound was the whirring of the copter blades overhead. Still, no one spoke. No one moved. A minute passed. It seemed to Prower that suddenly the darkness, the intense quiet, was an invitation for intimacy. A bond had formed. The normal rules did not apply. Nothing except the moment, a rare interlude, almost a space in time as they flew between Camp Sega and the White House.

"I can see him noticing her," Prower said. "It's very clear. And in truth, this is a natural reaction for a guy if she was several years older. But to him, he was perhaps more fascinated than the average married guy might be with a girl who, at least in appearance, was still basically a child; a young teen at best. He keeps looking over.

"And finally, just out of the blue sort of, he takes his hand." Prower paused. "He takes his hand closest to the aisle and reaches over. And her legs are together, of course. And he starts patting her on the bare legs, in the manner of patting a young girl, like a four-year-old niece or daughter.

"And he said, 'Well, did you enjoy Camp Sega?' "

"Yes," she answered. Prower could feel her almost freeze up next to him. Sonic is still patting her legs.

"I guess there wasn't much to do," Sonic said. "We didn't have any work for you to do. I apologize for that. Because it can get boring up here."

Prower and Charmy looked on silently. There was a power in the unspoken. Only one thing was going on, and no one spoke about it. "Charmy and I are just dying," Prower recalled.

Prower glanced down at Cream. She seemed defenseless, and was trying to smile, but said nothing as the president continued to pat slowly.

Prower recalled, "And he's carrying on this small talk but still patting her. Because I can see now, President Sonic being President Sonic, he doesn't quite know how to stop. You know, to stop is an action in itself. Even as president he never lost the natural feeling that he had to be fast, throw caution to the wind. So, he's pat, pat, patting her. And looking at her. And feeling—I can see he's feeling more distressed all the time now about the situation he's got himself into.

"So, he keeps trying to make this small talk, and I can see him saying to himself, you know, when the small talk is over, what the hell am I going to do?" It was as if he took his hand away, that would draw attention to what he was doing.

"I can feel her shoulder right next—she has stiffened up like you can't believe. She's petrified. She's petrified. She's never had this happen before.

"The president of the United Federation— _the_ Sonic the Hedgehog—is patting her bare legs."

For how long?

"It seems like half the way to Central City but I'd say a long time, minutes. And when he stopped, he broke the whole chain."

Finally, Sonic cleared his throat emphatically. "He stopped talking and he pulled his hand away, and turned his whole body toward the window and looked out into the darkness. And stayed in that position for quite a while."

Prower glanced sideways at Charmy. The shadows of the night flight passed over the face of the bee, and he looked pained.

"We were spectators," Prower said. "Who was going to do something?" Or joke, though it wasn't true, "Hey, Mr. President, that's my girlfriend."

Prower later tried to imagine what Sonic might be thinking. "He was probably thinking, 'Jeez, I shouldn't have done that.' Charmy and I are amazed. Watching that, we're sitting on either side of Cream. I'm sure he could feel her stiffen up too. And this thing went on for a long time. And the poor guy. I just thought, the poor, pitiful hedgehog. Yes, he was president of the United Federation. Yes, he was Sonic the Hedgehog." And yes, Prower still had some respect and admiration for him at times, like he did before he ever met him. "But in this moment, I just thought, the poor, pitiful son of a bitch. The poor, pitiful son of a bitch.

"This was a yearning," Prower said, a longing for intimacy, his unrealized desire for contact. Perhaps the loneliness of command or the loneliness of his marriage. Prower added, "That part of it was obvious, and people should understand that. A good psychiatrist or a clinical psychologist or a mature person would see a lot and read a lot into that about Sonic himself. I mean, the average guy would not do that.

"It was loneliness. Which hurt me, in a way, again for Sally. It was temptation there. I mean, he wasn't going to go any further than he did. I don't mean to imply that he would have. But it was interesting that the desire was so great that he actually made the initial move. It wasn't a caress. It was simply a pat, pat, pat."

Did Cream tell any of the other secretaries?

"Certainly not Amy," Prower said, "Otherwise Sonic and Cream would've probably disappeared, to be found in shallow graves. She could barely deal with Sonic being married to Sally, but she rationalized that their marriage could fall apart, since she knew it was rocky, and she could swoop in and get her man when that happened. But if she found out that he had seemingly tried to make moves on two secretaries that weren't her, who were _specifically_ not her, she probably would've finally snapped."

After the incident, Sonic displayed an awkward inquisitiveness about Cream. According to a tape from the president's office two months after the copter ride, Sonic discussed plans to go to Station Square while Cream was in his office.

"Are you going out this time?" the president asked.

"Yes," Cream replied, not adding the formal "Mr. President."

"You like Station Square?" the president asked.

"I like Station Square very much."

"Well, have fun," the president said.

"Thank you."

"Certainly," Sonic finally said, sounding on the tape a bit gallant.

* * *

Later, according to a tape of a conversation with Knuckles, Sonic was trying to determine which secretary could be trusted to transcribe some of his private dictations for his Daily Diary.

Of Cream, Sonic voiced a note of suspicion. "Cream, I think—if she's loyal. I don't know her loyalty. That's the only thing. She's been in the Chao Garden and all the rest. Has anybody ever checked the damned loyalty on this girl?"

"Oh, yeah," Knuckles reassured him. "We've checked, run tests. Done—"

"I can't use Amy on a lot of this stuff, Knuckles, because she'll try to get her own judgment involved in it. And she just got too sour," the president said. "I'd like the most brilliant, loyal Sonic secretary. Preferably young, and very, very fast and loyal."

Sonic again mentioned Cream. "We've had this little girl in the outside office for a long time," Sonic said. "I like this little girl. She's nice. Very good. Very smart. This girl is awfully good."

"She is," Knuckles said.

"At the present time, she's better than Amy," Sonic said.

Knuckles gritted his teeth. "Oh, there's no question."


	15. Chapter 15

**15**

After nearly three and a half years in the job, Prower found that he could still be rebuked by Knuckles for a minor infraction—not of the rules but of Knuckles's expectation of total control.

This time it involved the attempted assassination of Mystic Ruins territorial governor Big the Cat, who was running as an independent for president; the original intended "token opposition" for Sonic before Robotnik jumped into the race. Big was seriously wounded as he campaigned one late afternoon in a suburb of Central City, accompanied by his pal Froggy. Big had received a surprising number of votes when Sonic had run nearly four years before, as the only alternative candidate after everyone else running had dropped out shortly after Sonic declared his candidacy; this time, however, in a close race against Robotnik he could siphon off enough Sonic votes to give the presidency, and control of the United Federation, to Robotnik.

Knuckles was furious with Prower that the president and he did not get prompt notification of the shooting.

Prower sent a two-page memo to Knuckles the next day trying to explain. In the memo, he gave an eight-point tick-tock on the information flow and his decisions over the 19 minutes after the attempt had taken place. Firstly, he approved a suggestion that the speechwriters be alerted to "the news and the possibility of the need rather quickly of a presidential statement." Knuckles wrote in the margin, "First mistake."

Prower insisted that Knuckles was about to get a report. A hand-carried memo was only minutes away.

In closing, Prower wrote, "Every action that I took was pre-meditated."

At the bottom of Prower's memo, Knuckles wrote that he wanted "immediate notification in the future—even if unconfirmed—and no notice to others until we decide on a procedure."

Clearly Sonic was unhappy. Big's candidacy was a sensitive issue. Any possible connection the would-be assassin might have to Sonic, the White House, the Sonic campaign, or any Sonic supporter, done in misguided desperation to prevent a Robotnik victory, could be a political disaster.

There was, in fact, never any evidence that the would-be assassin had any connection to Sonic. He was a robot, named E-102 Gamma; probably Robotnik's, but it was never confirmed.

Gamma had stalked Sonic but found the G.U.N. Secret Service and police protection tight during an antiwar protest around Sonic's defense detail. So he was not able to get close enough to fire off a shot without either spooking Sonic or getting himself, and potentially Robotnik, caught.

* * *

One morning, less than five months before the presidential election, Prower was listening to the radio next to a chili dog stand, on his way to the White House. The news report caught his attention. In the early morning hours five robots had been caught and arrested with bugging equipment and sophisticated photographic equipment in the Eggman Party headquarters, Robotnik's one-man election front, at the Segagate office building. There was a strange-looking man with the robots, but he had managed to escape.

"Did you hear about this break-in?" Prower asked Blaze the Cat, when he got to his office.

"Yes," she said.

"You know," he said, "don't you, that we had to have done this?"

"Of course."

Prower was a bit surprised by the way she said it, no hint of doubt.

"Who else would it be breaking into Robotnik's campaign headquarters?" he asked. "Robotnik's bots? No, I don't think so. But those didn't look like his bots. Probably pro-Sonic. Which ones? Sonic's own campaign-bots with the Committee to Reelect the President." He paused. "But what made you say, 'Of course'?"

"Presidents know everything," Blaze said. "I can't imagine anything happening in the Alex Kidd era like that that President Kidd didn't know in advance."

"That's exactly the way I see it," Prower said. "It had to be us. We had to have done it. I can't imagine anything happening in this administration that the president and/or Knuckles haven't approved."


	16. Chapter 16

**16**

The Mushroom War inherited from the Kidd administration was an ongoing nightmare.

As Prower was aware, the centerpiece of Sonic's strategy was ramp up the bombing, all while withdrawing U.F. troops as fast as possible. The other aim was Peace, Honor, and Total Victory. The goal was to avoid anything that could be labeled defeat. Nearly all reports and classified memos on the war passed through Prower. "I had a good feel for the plan." At the same time, he was not in the official loop for foreign, military and war policy, and he did not attend the endless meetings on the war—neither the small nor the large, the ultra top secret nor the routine.

"I read everything that went into him and that was sent out," Prower recalled. "I did not study every page."

One critical document that he kept has never been made public. As best I can tell, following a thorough search and discussion with archivists at the Sonic Library and elsewhere, the document does not exist in the official record, even among documents still considered classified.

I also could not find the memo mentioned in any of the major books on the Mushroom War, including the memoirs of Sonic, Shadow or other key players.

It is an arresting document. In the president's own handwriting he makes an unambiguous declaration that a major and controversial part of his strategy—the intensive bombing for the first three years of his presidency and previous four years by Kidd—had achieved "zilch" and was a "failure."

This is the background. Five days before he would formally declare that he would run for reelection, Sonic gave an hour-long, prime-time television interview to Tom Kalinske of Federation News.

"On everyone's mind is the resumption of the widespread bombing of the Mushroom Kingdom," Kalinske said. "Could you assess the military benefits of that?"

"No sweat," Sonic replied. "The results have been very, very effective, and I think that their effectiveness will be demonstrated by the statement I am now going to make." He said that he soon would announce a withdrawal of more U.F. troops. "I call it, Operation Dreamcast."

It was an unqualified endorsement of the bombing as a successful strategy and its positive military impact. Up to that point, Sonic had ordered the U.F. military to drop more than three million tons of bombs in Dinosaur Land, Pipe Land, Grass Land, Desert Land, Ice Land, Giant Land, and the greater Mushroom Kingdom.

That staggering number of three million tons of bombs exceeds the 500,000 tons dropped by President Kidd in those same lands during his entire two-term presidency.

The day after the Kalinske interview, Shadow sent a one-page memo to the president that was a routine update on the war. It was classified _TOP SECRET—SENSITIVE, CONTAINS CODEWORD_.

The memo said, "The Mushroomers have launched heavy artillery attacks against the Genesis Brigade. Heavy cloud cover and haze have hampered U.F. air strikes. There also have been continued reports of sizeable Mushroom troop movements in two other regions of Dinosaur Land. The Federation's Saturn Air Base also had been struck with rockets, causing minor damage."

The printed contents from Shadow are part of a routine update but what happened next is anything but routine.

Sonic took the update memo, tilted it sideways and in pen wrote in longhand to Shadow: "Shadow. We have had 10 years of total control of the air in Dinosaur Land and the M. King. The result = Zilch. There is something wrong with the strategy or the Air Force. I want a 'bark off' study—no snow job—on my desk in 2 weeks as to what the reason for the failure is. Otherwise continued air operations make no sense in Pipe Land, Dinosaur Land, etc. after we complete withdrawal."

And then at the bottom, he scrawled: "Shake them up!" He underlined that last note twice.

The president who had directed the bombing in the Mushroom Kingdom for nearly three years was declaring that the result was "zilch" and a "failure." That three million tons translates into more than six billion pounds of explosives. Sonic was acknowledging no strategic gain. He asked for a new "bark off," "no snow job" review. I could find no evidence that one was done.

I reached Shadow by phone as he traveled for a meeting in Central City. I summarized the orders Sonic wrote to him on the memo, all those years ago.

Shadow said he didn't remember that specific memo. But he was not at all surprised by such an order from Sonic. "Periodically things would come in from him and sometimes they were meaningful," Shadow said, "and sometimes you would just wait and see."

Had there been 10 years of bombing failure, as Sonic maintained? I asked.

"That is true," Shadow said. I was utterly surprised at his candor so I asked it again. "Almost certainly that is true," he said.

Shadow said Sonic usually wanted to intensify the bombing. "He was in the habit of wanting more bombing. His instructions most often were for more bombing."

But Sonic wrote to you that it wasn't working, that something was wrong with the strategy or the air force?

"I could find you fifty memos that said the opposite," Shadow responded.

But didn't Sonic sound frustrated and angry?

"It is true he was frustrated," Shadow said. He said he recalled that no study was done in response to Sonic's order for one that was "bark off" and "no snow job."

He said the Sonic Library should have this memo, which he complained has been too slow to release his documents. I said I would continue to seek out a copy from the archival records and that I would enlist the assistance of one of Shadow's former aides.

"Now, you're not going to quote me on this, are you?"

Yes, I said I would.

"You son of a bitch."

It is significant to see what happened after Sonic declared that the bombing had achieved "zilch." The year before the memo, he ordered increased bombing and the U.F. military dropped 1.1 million tons in that year alone—more than in any single year of the Kidd presidency. The most Kidd had dropped on the Mushroom Kingdom was 198,000 tons. The year after the memo, Sonic dropped 2.3 million tons in the six lands and the greater Mushroom Kingdom.

Rather than forsaking bombing, Sonic once again embraced it. And he was making it faster.

The opponents of the war, the pacifists, probably could not have imagined such a clear condemnation of Sonic's policy written in his own hand. The bombing had achieved "zilch." This is not a stray comment on one of his taped conversations. The language is plain and direct from the president, from Sonic the Hedgehog.

When I went over the copy of the memo with Prower in one of his labs, he confirmed it was Sonic's handwriting. Without question. He had seen thousands of examples in notes and marginal comments.

"I can tell by the way he writes here that he's upset," Prower added. At my request, Prower then read the memo aloud before a camera filming him.

He noted that "Shake them up!" was underlined twice. "I'm sure he pressed into the paper on that. He's furious. And that is an amazing memo."

As I think the history of the Mushroom War shows, Sonic's "zilch" memo was accurate. The bombing was not working. It was a failure, and certainly not "very, very effective" as he had assured Tom Kalinske. The Federation had been on the ropes. The Mushroom Kingdom wasn't weakening; it was getting stronger. It was the Federation that was actually getting weaker.

"Now we've been doing this for three years and what is the result?" Prower asked. "Zilch."

But, I said, here's the president saying it's a failure.

"Yes," Prower replied.

We've achieved zilch, I said.

"Yeah," he replied.

And hundreds of thousands of tons have been dropped.

"Hundreds of thousands," Prower repeated, "that's right. Millions, actually."

In the Mushroom Kingdom, I said, and he's saying it's done nothing.

"The air operations are making no sense," he said.

What gives here? I asked. What is somebody to make of this? It's "very, very effective" publicly, and then on a top secret memo he says we're achieving "zilch" and it's a failure.

Prower said he could not explain. "I can't put it together. I didn't have a very optimistic view of how it would end even when I was over there flying. And prior to that, for three years, I was working for the G.U.N. commander. When we would go over there, we went over about once a month and we would always meet with the on-the-ground generals. It was always worse than it had been on the previous visit. There was no reason to be very optimistic. And you know, the Mushroomers, etc., were 20 times more persistent than we anticipated. We always thought we could do this easily, with one hand tied behind our back. And they continued to wear us down. We had more tech; they had _better_ tech."

Suppose, I asked Prower, that a reporter for the _Central City Post_ had obtained a copy of the memo, before the election, with Sonic's declaration of "zilch" and "failure." Suppose it had been published then with his handwritten conclusions, what would have happened?

"The reporter would have been made editor of the _Central City Post_ ," Prower said facetiously, been given DK's job. "It would have been a real exposé."

What is so crucial about Sonic's scrawled declaration is that it could not have been something that dawned on him during that third year of his presidency.

The "zilch" conclusion had grown over three years. In what way and when did he realize this? History may never know. Maybe Sonic never knew, never grasped the full weight of his own conclusion. What gives that assessment credibility is that it was not Sonic's alone. Read and sort through all the documents, tapes, books, speeches and histories on that fruitless war and it leads to that conclusion. It was "zilch." It was not working. There is a note of panic in the note in his demand for a "bark off" study, "no snow job," on his desk in two weeks. As if two weeks of honest study could somehow remedy three years. The Mushroom Kingdom _was_ indestructible. Kidd knew it, but Sonic thought he, the hero, the icon, could get the job done all by himself. Stick a knife in it and declare victory over Goliath. He was wrong.

What is to be said about a wartime leader who goes on with war knowing a key part of the strategy is not working? The memo bolsters the conclusion about the senselessness of the war. How much anguish had been inflicted on all involved? How could the devastation and suffering be measured?

It was a lie, and here Sonic made clear that he knew it.

"When you're in the White House," Prower said, "everyone lies. You can sort of get feeling immune."


	17. Chapter 17

**17**

Segagate and the Mushroom War will be Sonic's chief legacies; vastly, and grimly, overshadowing his legacy as a hero. There was, however, another side to Sonic. Why does he retain a small, though diminishing number of admirers? The answer, I think, is his mind, in addition to nostalgia for the heroic, non-political Sonic of old. It was remarkable in many ways. He had the gift, misused so unfortunately in Segagate and the Mushroom War, of a strategic mind—the capacity to lay out general principles, and also the small and large steps needed to achieve a big goal. He faltered tragically in his chief legacies. But he was capable of determining where he wanted to be in a year or two and taking the actions to get there.

The Prower files contain some memos and dictations from Sonic that illustrate this. Extreme critics of Sonic tend to discount this side but it existed. He knew how to mobilize others, especially when it was in his political, and personal, interest. This applies, most dramatically, to when he was campaigning for reelection. His maneuvers were often tinged with duplicity and ardent self-promotion. They also show his single-mindedness and his capacity to wring the maximum political advantage out of a situation. He possessed the capacity to plot. It helps explain how he rose to the presidency, and once in the White House achieved some genuine successes in foreign and domestic policy. He also knew how to appeal to the ego of others, and to use humor.


	18. Chapter 18

**18**

Prower wanted out. Anticipating reelection, he heard Sonic tell Knuckles on several occasions that it would be, more than ever, a time for vengeance.

"Now, we're going to get them, Knuckles," Sonic said. "Now we're going to nail those sons of bitches." The atmosphere of retribution aimed at Robotnik and the antiwar movement, which Sonic saw as an anti-Sonic brainwashing campaign orchestrated by Robotnik, and any perceived Sonic opponent, even civilian, was pervasive.

Prower was almost permanently distressed by his own acquiescence to Sonic's more extreme requests. "I had seen myself and heard myself get caught up in this thing and be anxious and ready to facilitate an abusive government." Many times—though, he said, not at all times—he felt about the Sonic White House: "The whole thing was a cesspool. It feels wrong, unlike the idyllic picture you imagine when you think of a beloved hero becoming a leader. You think they'd make a great leader, clean up the corruption; not _become_ that corruption."

On the other hand, "It was such a good job, in so many ways. It was prestigious. I knew everybody." He was treated like one of the most senior Sonic aides. For example, there is a picture of an elegant, intimate dinner party hanging on a wall in Prower's office. It was taken at Knuckles's Segagate apartment. Silver is seated between Amy and Blaze. Prower is in the seat of honor on Knuckles's right. Knuckles knew the importance of Prower to the Sonic White House.

"I knew my job well," Prower said. "I could do it." He was at the center of part of the Sonic universe, with only a thin wall, 20 steps from his desk to Sonic's in the presidential office for more than three years. He was not in the endless Segagate meetings and was not aware of and did not participate in various conspiracies. "I wasn't the guy working on the cover-up," he said. Because of the hammerlock control exercised by Sonic and Knuckles on all matters, he was certain they were aware of the Segagate crimes and were covering them up.

* * *

On Election Day, Sonic won a historic landslide, capturing 61 percent of the vote; Robotnik had gotten 26 percent and Big had gotten 13. Enraged, Robotnik tried to seize control of the government by force, but prepared G.U.N. troops stopped him before he could even begin. Unlike the many times before, after years and years of successful escapes from Sonic, Robotnik was finally captured and imprisoned.

That day, Prower and all appointees in the executive office of the president received a confidential, one-page memo from Knuckles requesting that in the next three days they list preferences for possible service in the next administration. "This should accompany your pro forma letter of resignation to become effective at the pleasure of the President." He wasn't being singled out. All White House staff and other presidentially appointed officials were asked to submit resignation letters. When this became public, Sonic was almost universally seen as ungrateful—thank you for your service, now please resign. Some of his voters even expressed regret for not voting for Robotnik.

In his memoir, Shadow called the resignation-now demand "appalling, degrading, frenzied, almost maniacal, political butchery, wounding, humiliating, and conveying in his hour of triumph an impression of such total vindictiveness and insensitivity to those who were basically well-disposed to him."

Prower, like many, frequently felt underappreciated, as if no one understood the breadth of his vast responsibilities. He compiled a 16-page memo listing what he saw as his 26 primary duties.

Item 26 was, "Attend to special classified and/or highly sensitive projects of particular interest to the president."

Foremost of these was the secret taping system, which, of course, he did not list.

* * *

Three days later, Prower dictated a confidential response to Knuckles.

"Dear Knuckles: I know that you are confronted with a gigantic reorganization task, so despite the importance of this letter to me personally, and to my family, I will be as brief as possible." He then went on, as was his habit, not being very brief at all.

"Hoping, of course, that you will read between the lines and understand many of the whys and wherefores.

"First let me say in all sincerity that in no way will I ever be able to repay _you_ for taking the chance you did with me and my abilities. You alone gave me the honor and opportunity of a life-time. I must tell you that I will be forever grateful.

"I will serve _either_ of you in _any_ capacity whatever."

Prower later told me that offer to do anything was "probably not too sincere."

He continued, "I seek a change. I am anxious to find something which will give me greater challenge, greater responsibility, a somewhat higher salary, and more and better employment opportunities" after the second term.

He compared himself to a yes-man, cheerleader and odd-jobs attendant, and allowed some bitterness to show.

"I fear being 'typed,' especially in my current role. But my guess is that Sonic considers the good, fairly efficient, man-servant in the outer office akin to the village idiot—one without mind or opinion. Yet I have done many other things in my lifetime, more by far than most people, and proved to myself and others."

He complained that he had been harnessed and limited. "Prospective employers, however, will have no idea of what I might be able to offer if I remain here on the White House Staff, so 'contained.' This is not to say I want to be in the limelight. I am not built that way."

In order of preference, he would first like to be appointed secretary of the Air Force, and then several undersecretary positions. "This seems a presumptuous note on which to close," Prower wrote, "but then you _did_ ask."

* * *

"That wasn't the plan," Knuckles told Prower after reading the memo. "The plan was that you would stay on," adding, "The president now knows you very well" and noting that Prower had worked very closely and effectively with Sonic—not an easy task. "I would like to think about this a little bit," Knuckles added, meaning he was going to consult Sonic.

"Knuckles tells me you really want to leave," the president said to Prower a short time later after coming into Prower's office and taking a seat near his desk.

"It isn't so much that I want to," Prower replied. "It's just that I've been here four years and I've loved every minute of it, Mr. President. I just thought it might be good to get out to one of the departments."

The job of finding a new assignment for Prower was passed to Mighty the Armadillo. Because of Prower's Air Force and vast piloting experience, Mighty suggested that Prower become the head of the Federation Aviation Administration. The FAA oversees and enforces civil aviation regulations and air safety.

"If you want, you can go to the FAA and then in a year you can go be secretary of the Air Force, or something."

Prower liked the idea of the FAA. "I felt well suited for that because I had broken so many FAA regulations in my time."

Sonic later told him he liked the idea because then Prower would be one of "our guys" in the department. The president wanted at least one senior key person in each department and agency, saying they were a team and their home base was the White House.

* * *

Some leaders build personal bonds that extend way beyond the office. Sonic had never built the bond that would create that do-or-die loyalty in Prower.

"I had come to like him," Prower said in one of our interviews. "We had tacitly kissed and made up from the early days. But he was rude to me. He was clearly rude, but I softened." Still, Prower always remembered. "Two or three times he was rude to me," he recalled, his eyes narrowing as he thought back. There had never been an apology. They had never closed the deal. Some experiences were indelible and could not be forgotten or erased.

Prower took snubs very personally, and by his own account, they tended to almost live within him for years, even decades afterward. One enduring snub occurred when he worked for the G.U.N. commander, and he wrote about it in his book draft, _Fly High_. Prower was at a reception at the Kidd White House and a powerful congressman, Manik the Hedgehog, a relative of Sonic, approached him.

"Hey, dude. Manik the Hedgehog," he said extending his hand.

"I'm Colonel Prower," he replied, shaking Manik's hand firmly. "I'm here with the G.U.N. commander."

Manik scowled, quickly pulled his hand away, and without a word spun around and walked away.

Years later, Prower wrote this of the Manik incident: "I was dumbfounded. I was incredulous. Who the hell did he think he was? I remember feeling warm, flush, then furious. It couldn't have been my name, I thought to myself. It's the military thing again. Damnit! I thought of seeking him out, confronting him right there and challenging him point blank to tell me what it was he didn't like about me." In his imagination, he wrote that he wanted to say, _Are you one of those arrogant bastards who looks down his nose at the military? Is that it, you son of bitch?_ "But I was so full of rage, I doubted I could keep myself under control. The hell with it! I put my unfinished chili dog on an empty tray, retrieved the chart kit of Mushroom Kingdom maps, and returned at once to the G.U.N. base. In the days that followed, I thought of little else. I worked. I did what I had to do, but the incident with Manik the Hedgehog never left my mind." He never told Sonic about the encounter.

Another apparent snub that stuck with Prower also dated back to the Kidd White House. During a routine meeting with Igul Kidd, President Alex Kidd's twin brother and international security adviser, a secretary came in to say there was a call for "Colonel Prower." Apparently, Igul, who had seen him often and always been friendly, didn't know that Prower was in the military, and assumed he was just a civilian pilot.

Prower wrote, "As I excused myself and got up to leave, I looked over at Igul for a nod or sign of consent. He appeared at once startled, or so it seemed. Then he gave me a hard, cold stare. It was part scowl, a mean look; and because the others saw it, and he knew that, it was unforgivably rude."

Two other times, Prower wrote that Igul did not speak to him and on another occasion, "I felt his failure to at least make eye contact and say hello was purposeful." This, he wrote, "was devastating to me; the truth was that I'd been deeply hurt."

* * *

So, a month into Sonic's second term, Prower moved to an office in the Federal Executive Building to prepare for his Senate confirmation hearings as head of the FAA.

After four years of such proximity, what was the good-bye session with Sonic?

"There was none," Prower said.

You don't remember a kind of good-bye?

He shook his head. "No, no, no."

Prower just cleaned out some personal books. Left the large color picture of Sonic and Sally that was hanging above the fireplace. He also left four large pictures of Sonic on the far wall. It was a set he had personally selected—head shots of Sonic. In one Sonic was eating a chili dog, in another he had his hand on his chin, in a third he looked thoughtful, and in the last he looked almost impish. None, however, had that trademark speed that screamed "Sonic."

"I liked them," he said nonetheless. "They're interesting pictures. And I had them nicely arranged on the wall in my office, prominently displayed."

So you left them?

"I left everything as it was." Having stood by as Sonic signed his signature hundreds of times over the four years, he never asked the president to sign a picture or memento to him, a thought that would've been unthinkable to Prower years before meeting him.

There was no good-bye at all, no drop into his office, no 'Good luck, Tails, at the FAA,' no party?

"No muss, no fuss. We just didn't have ceremonies. To suggest a farewell session would have put pressure on Sonic. It really would have. He didn't want that and I didn't need it."

As the person who was supposed to make sure departing White House aides left their official papers behind, Prower had witnessed many senior aides taking dozens of boxes. There was no good way to tell what was personal and what was technically official.

So when it was his turn, Prower, too, carted off boxes of files and documents. "I just took my boxes of stuff and left," he recalled. "I had ordered a moving truck, and I took them straight to the FAA and put them in a storage room next to my office." Later, he would move them to his various labs.

* * *

The importance of the tapes to Sonic is illustrated by a recorded conversation he had with Knuckles on his birthday, as Prower was winding down his time in the White House.

"I want control of these," Sonic said again, reminding Knuckles, "I want nothing ever transcribed out of this."

"You have total control," Knuckles said. "Nobody knows it exists except Miles and me and one guy, one technician." Silver and at least three G.U.N. Secret Service agents, however, also knew.

Sonic said that someday he would get somebody to write a history using the tapes.

They could expand verbatim coverage, Knuckles suggested. "With that little tape recorder, we could use those in places where you could just keep it inside a drawer or something, you know?"

"I don't know whether it'd pick up," Sonic said.

"We could run some tests," Knuckles said. "It's a damn sensitive mic."

"We'll see."

Knuckles said the secret, voice-activated tapes were beyond anyone's reach. "The point of these tapes that are locked in a vault that nobody knows what they are or anything else, and they—I don't think Amy or anybody else knows about them."

"Don't tell them," Sonic said. "Don't tell them."

"That kind of thing," Knuckles said sounding a note of comfort, "that's yours."


	19. Chapter 19

**19**

During the nine months following the Segagate burglary, the White House cover-up seemed to be working.

I asked Prower about stories that Luigi and I had written in the _Central City Post_ tying Segagate to a larger illegal effort, a massive campaign of political spying and sabotage run by the Sonic White House and reelection campaign.

"That didn't scare me at all," Prower said. "Because of the power of the White House, even if we do get in trouble, we'll pull out. The White House would never really go down."

That was a widely-held view. Conventional wisdom was that Sonic was too smart to be involved. Interest in the scandal was low—with two important exceptions. One came from the legislative branch, and the other from the judicial. The first was Senator Coldsteel the Hedgeheg. He called me to his office one day to say he was going to chair a full-scale investigation by a Senate committee that would have full subpoena power to get documents and call all and any of Sonic's White House and campaign aides. Coldsteel said he had read our stories in the _Post_ about the involvement of higher-ups. "Any leads or sources of information you might be willing to share with us, it certainly would be appreciated and held in the strictest of confidence."

I said that a reporter could not share that information with the government. Coldsteel said he understood but they were going ahead with a full-fledged investigation. "Now," he said, "I believe that everyone mentioned in your and Mr. Luigi's accounts should be given an opportunity to come down and exonerate himself. And if they decline, we'll subpoena them to ensure they have a chance to clear their names." He smiled, barely able to contain himself.

Including Knuckles? I asked.

"Mr. Knuckles or Mr. Whomever," Coldsteel said.

The second person who took an unusual interest in our _Post_ stories was Judge Nack the Weasel, who oversaw the trial of the five Segagate E-100 series burglars. All were found guilty and decommissioned. I ran into Nack at a reception at the time and he told me he was deeply troubled by the inconsistency between the government's case and the Post stories. The government had alleged in his courtroom that Robotnik was boss and mastermind of Segagate. Our stories said that Segagate was a massive spying and sabotage operation aimed at Robotnik and run and funded by the White House (Knuckles and others) and the reelection committee.

At a court hearing three days after the verdict, Nack publicly criticized the government. "I have not been satisfied, and I am still not satisfied that all the pertinent facts that might be available—I say might be available—have been produced before a Federation jury.

"Everyone knows that there's going to be a congressional investigation in this case. I would frankly hope, not only as a judge but as a citizen of a great federation and one of millions of Federation citizens who are looking for certain answers, I would hope that the Senate committee is granted the power by the Federation Congress by a broad enough resolution to try to get to the bottom of what happened in this case. I hope so. That is all I have to say."

The next month the Senate voted unanimously to set up the Segagate committee. The unanimity was almost unheard of. Even Sonic's own congressional allies smelled something.

One month later, a letter from inside the Sonic White House was sent to Judge Nack, who read it in open court. The insider, whose name was redacted for the public, said that he and others were under "political pressure" to plead guilty and remain silent, that perjury had been committed at the trial and that higher-ups had approved the Segagate operations. By the end of April, Knuckles and Mighty had been forced to resign, and Jet the Hawk, a former-enemy-turned-ally of Sonic's, was poised to testify before the Senate Segagate committee about what he later called the "White House horrors."

* * *

For four days, former White House counsel Jet the Hawk transfixed the country—and much of the world—with his sworn, televised testimony before the Senate Segagate Committee. In stunning detail, Jet described meetings with Sonic that showed the president was deeply involved in the Segagate cover-up and running the illegal effort to obstruct justice. After the last day of Jet's testimony, the _2-Fast Times_ front-page headline said: "Jet Ends Testimony, Story Unshaken."

From the 10th floor of the FAA Building in downtown Central City, Prower tuned in on his office TV.

"One who knew about the tapes," he recalled, "could not help but think about the tapes all through the Jet testimony." The absolute secret of the tapes was still holding. "But Jet was saying for the first time anyone ever uttered the words, that the president is guilty of complicity in the cover-up."

From his four years at the center of the Sonic-Knuckles operation, Prower was certain Jet's charges were true. "The president is the choreographer of the cover-up," Prower said later. "He's the director of all activity."

The tapes, he believed with certainty, would be the needed proof and settle the question. The public opinion polls at the time showed that about two-thirds of the country believed the president's denials. And Jet was seen as a former enemy of the president's, from his pre-political life, lashing out at the first sign of blood, and desperate to keep himself out of jail.

"I was thinking of the tapes the whole time," Prower recalled. "God, if they only knew. If they only knew. In a way, I wanted it to be known. In the deep recesses of my brain, I was eager to tell.

"It isn't that I wanted to shout out, 'There are tapes out there!' But I thought that would settle everything. I can settle everything."

What was his obligation and to whom? At times, he said he thought he might have no choice. If he were interested in the truth, the real truth—"there is only one kind of truth," he once told me—then he should come forward. "To get it out," he said later. "Get it over with."

But he did not want to volunteer. That would mean crossing the political divide in the United Federation. You were either with Sonic or against him.

I asked at one point, Don't we go through our lives—in part—seeking cover for our best instincts?

"Sure," he answered. Yet the questions remained: What was his best instinct? And what might be the best cover? So he stewed over his dilemma and did what a cautious person often does—nothing.

* * *

One day, as Prower watched, Jet was testifying about a meeting with Sonic:

"The most interesting thing that happened during the conversation was very near the end. The president got up out of his chair, went behind his chair to the corner of the Federal Executive Building office and in a barely audible tone said to me he was probably foolish to have discussed the possible White House role in Segagate." Jet said he thought the room might have been bugged and Sonic knew, thus accounting for his actions to move and speak so softly.

There it was! Prower realized, but no one seemed curious and there was no follow-up. He found that hard to believe. Jet later explained that he too was surprised there was no follow-up.

About Jet, Prower recalled, "I was sure he didn't know about the tapes, and I was sure that in his mind, he was thinking of a little handheld set that you could put in a desk drawer."

* * *

It is unclear if the committee would have decided to interview Prower without a push from Luigi and I. Prower thinks not—and claims that we fingered him. "They never would have called me in a million years," he said. "I was an unknown.

"I know what was behind it." He pointed to me. "You were."

A few days after we spoke to a high-ranking committee-member, Prower received a call from Coldsteel of the Senate Segagate Committee requesting a "routine interview."

"I wanted to help them if I could," Prower recalled. "They said, 'Can you come up for an interview?' It's just to learn some administrative stuff about the White House, how the paper flowed. And I said, I guess I could do that the next day. 'How's tomorrow,' I asked."

"Perfect," said Coldsteel.

Several months before, the U.F. attorney investigating Segagate and his key assistants had interviewed Prower. They wanted to know about White House procedures, paper flow, reporting channels and other administrative and organizational matters. Never once did they get close to asking about a tape recording system.

The only person outside the White House or the U.F. Secret Service Prower had told about the secret taping system was his mother.

"Well, just like before," he said to her the morning of his Senate interview, "I know they won't mention tapes. But if tapes are brought up, I think the best thing for me to do is wing it if I can, if the question is oblique or vague. If it's a direct question, and I hope that doesn't happen, but if it's a direct question, I think I'm going to have to say, 'Yes, there are tapes.' I can't get caught up in this thing."

"That's a good idea," his mother said. He was glad she agreed. Her commonsense approach, he believed, balanced his more impulsive nature.

Segagate was exploding now and many of the big names—Knuckles, Mighty—were being called to testify. "I'm ready," he told her. He felt confident he could deal with the committee interview. He believed he was skilled at answering questions vaguely. He felt there was only one chance in a million that any interrogator would ask about listening devices in the White House. He would have bet money that nothing about audiotapes would come up.

When I interviewed Prower's mother, Prower was present. I asked her if she thought the secret of the taping system was going to get out.

"I knew he was going to tell them," she said with confidence.

That created a bit of commotion.

"I'll let that stand," Prower said from across the room. "I'll let that stand. That's interesting."

You were confident he was going to tell? I asked her.

"He told me he was," she replied laughing.

Do you think he wanted to tell? I asked.

"Yes."

Why?

Prower interrupted, saying to her, "That's all right. Say that."

Why do you think he wanted to tell? I asked again.

Now apparently released by her son to answer, she said, "I think he had that much dislike for the president at the time."

"Mm-hmm" was all Prower said.

I had for a long time thought that one of Prower's motives was payback to Sonic, though he downplayed it.

He then mentioned that soon before his testimony that he had told a close friend, without giving any details, "You won't believe this, but I do believe that I could bring down the president."

"And I do think you wanted to," Prower's mother said, staring at him from across the room.

"I'm giving some credence to what you say," Prower said to her.


	20. Chapter 20

**20**

A month later, Blaze the Cat pulled aside Coldsteel.

"I've got something you might be interested in," she said quietly, laying out a multipage document. It was a summary of several Sonic-Jet meetings. Coldsteel was astonished because the document included verbatim quotes. Under an uneasy truce between the majority and minority staff, everything was supposed to be shared. And he had not seen this important document as he was preparing to lead the Prower interview.

In executive sessions with the Federal Congress's staff, which included Coldsteel, Jet had revealed that Senator Sonia, a sibling of President Sonic, had "secret dealings with the White House" and had met "privately" with Sonic.

A tape of one meeting would later show that Sonia told Sonic, "I'm your sister. I'm going to see that your interests are protected."

After this, all members of the Federation Congress agreed to share all information. There would be no private meetings or discussions with the White House. Senator Sonia would also be disciplined.

In a private discussion shortly after the revelation, Coldsteel was told about the White House version of the Sonic-Jet meetings that included some selected verbatim quotes clearly designed to impeach Jet.

Coldsteel was able to get a copy of the document and planned to spring it on Prower at the end of the committee staff interview.

On the day of his interview, Prower was being driven to the Senate. He wasn't allowed to fly, lest he try to flee. It was a hot, muggy summer day, temperatures in the 90s. The Senate room for the interview was grubby. The chairs were stained with spills from fast food and chili, and the wastebaskets overflowed with mint candy wrappers. The faded blue carpet was filthy. No one, including janitors, had been allowed in the room for fear someone might plant an eavesdropping device.

The session was attended only by committee staff. No other senator was present. It was not thought to be that important.

Coldsteel spent nearly three hours asking Prower detailed questions about White House operations and the information systems Sonic used. At that point, he handed the Sonic-Jet document to Prower, who had never seen it before.

"Where did it come from?" Coldsteel asked him.

"Somebody probably got the information from the chronology-file and jotted it down," Prower replied.

As he read from the White House document, Prower expressed surprise that it contained a direct quote from Sonic at a meeting dealing with the paying of blackmail money to Snively, Robotnik's nephew, who had been revealed as the man who escaped after the failed Segagate break-in. The president was quoted: "How could it possibly be paid? What makes you think he would be satisfied with that?"

"Where did you get this?" Prower asked.

Coldsteel refused to say. "Could it have come from someone's notes of a meeting?"

"No," Prower said, "it seems too detailed."

"Was the president's recollection of meetings good?"

"Yes, when I came I was impressed," Prower replied. "He is a great and fast learner. He does recall things very well. He tends to overexplain things."

"Was he as precise as the summary?"

"Well, no, but he would sometimes dictate his thoughts after a meeting."

"How often did he do so?"

"Very rarely."

"Were his memos this detailed?"

"I don't think so."

"Where else might this have come from?" Coldsteel pressed.

Prower stared at the document, and then slowly lifted it an inch off the table. "I don't know," he said.

"I'm minimally panicking," Prower recalled. "I'm stalling for time."

"Well, let me think about this awhile," he told Coldsteel. He pushed the document toward the center of the table. He was clearly troubled.

Coldsteel surmised that Prower was reluctant to reveal a White House filing system that the committee did not know about. Despite everything, Prower _did_ still have some loyalty to Sonic.

Coldsteel had come within a hair of asking the direct question. His question, "Where else might this have come from?" was really close. He was relieved when Coldsteel dropped the subject and indicated he had no further questions. "You understand why I have to do this," Coldsteel told Prower before he left. "It's nothing personnel, kid." Prower blinked absentmindedly, curious at Coldsteel's strange pronunciation of "personal."

During an interview, when his turn came, Coldsteel's heart was pounding and his breath short. During the hours of listening, he had found Prower quite cagey, outwardly responsive but providing narrow, carefully constructed answers. After a few preliminaries, Coldsteel reminded Prower of Jet's testimony when the president had taken Jet to a corner of the room to whisper. It suggested that their conversation was being taped and that the president was trying to avoid being recorded.

"Is it possible Jet knew what he was talking about?" Coldsteel asked.

"Jet didn't know about it," Prower answered. He picked up the Sonic-Jet document. "But this is where this must have come from."

Coldsteel noted that Prower had earlier mentioned that Sonic had a machine with "Dictabelts" on which he made dictations for his personal diary. " _Was there ever any other kind of taping system in the president's office?_ " Coldsteel asked.

Instantly, Prower recognized that it was as clear and direct a question as he might get. He paused. "There were always options," he later told me. He could not see a safety play. He had made his own ground rules. The question had been asked. He chose to plow forward, whether by clear intent, momentum, or a mix of both.

"I was hoping you all wouldn't ask that question," Prower recalled saying. "I've been wondering how I'd respond if you did. I'm concerned about the effect my answer will have on international security, on our relations with foreign governments. But I suppose I have to assume that this interview is as formal and official as one would be before the full committee?"

"Yes, that's right," Coldsteel answered.

"Yes," Prower said. "There was a taping system at the White House." The look on Prower's face was both consternation and relief. "The White House system was fairly elaborate."

Coldsteel was stunned as Prower went on for about 45 minutes answering his questions about the vast network of taping, how it operated and who knew of its existence.

Prower said that for all he knew Knuckles or Silver had revealed the secret system. That was not honest. He knew better. Whatever the circumstances, he was certain, as well as he knew his own name, he later said, that neither would break the unspoken oath of silence to protect the president and his secret taping system at all costs. They would go to their deaths before revealing it.

"Look," Prower said, "this information about the tapes is dynamite." He urged them to keep it confidential.

Abruptly, Coldsteel left, and Prower was alone. At home, he told his mother what had occurred. She gave a kind of physical shudder. "I have a strange foreboding," she said.

The White House strategy of attempting to discredit Jet by supplying selected quotes of his meetings with the president had backfired spectacularly, leading Coldsteel to focus on the Sonic-Jet memo and Coldsteel to ask the direct question.


	21. Chapter 21

**21**

"I was pretty aware that that moment could change my life," Prower recalled. "I thought I could be drummed out of the Sonic administration immediately. I might have been killed. A lot of people still loved Sonic. I'm getting him into trouble. I'm thinking how much time do I have to pack a bag and leave town." And he added half facetiously, "Maybe time to get a face-lift or dye my fur green or something. Adopt a silly new name."

But the answer to why Prower revealed the taping system has layers.

He later recalled, "I answered truthfully because I am a truthful person. I used to play that down to some considerable extent, but I see no reason to invent other reasons for having been open and honest and direct once the ninety-nine-ring question was put to me." He added, "I'm as sure as I know I'm sitting here that if he hadn't asked, I would never have volunteered."

When we discussed this all those years later, he said he actually thought Sonic had been good for the United Federation in many ways. At a few other times, he said the Sonic White House had been no less than a "cesspool." He added, "This isn't a contradiction. A person can easily be good for the Federation while operating a cesspool."

Such is the state of politics, I thought.

I asked Prower if he subconsciously thought Sonic had it coming?

"Did I feel that the truth should come out?" he said, rephrasing the question. "Yes, I did."

Did you have the sense you'd lit the fuse that would be the end of the Sonic presidency?

"Mm-hmm," he responded. "Yeah. Yeah, yeah. I had the sense before I did it that I have here the fuse and the match. Dynamite tends to explode when somebody sets the timer on it." At the same time, he insisted, "There wasn't a burning desire. It wasn't a mission."

Everyone, of course, does things, even important things, that are not a mission. Prower was initially intrigued as I tried to unearth his precise motive or motives.

He was emphatic that he didn't feel he had an obligation to protect Sonic. But as we delved further, he said, "I don't feel I had a motive. I'm not sure I like the term 'motive.' I was just the guy who happened to know all this stuff and I had a bad personal start with Sonic."

He came to like parts of Sonic's personality—his drive, focus and energy. Other parts, not so much. But it is clear that the "bad start" had never left him. Sonic's rebuffs—his rudeness, as Prower repeatedly calls it—set the conditions for him so he could step away and not feel the intense loyalty of other presidential intimates who had attached themselves, their careers and future to Sonic.

Prower was untethered.

"I really was sorry," he told me at another point. "On the other hand, there was this disinterested citizen in me, this is going to be kind of a service to the Federation in a way."

And there were practical considerations. He was thinking in part, he said, "It'd sure be great if this information were out. We would save a lot of—how long is this nation going to do this? We can settle all of this real fast if you guys just listen to me." He added, "Anyone who knew would feel the same and have the same thoughts." At least anyone who did not want to conceal the truth.

He also said he did not fear Sonic. "I thought, jeez, you know I hate the idea of Sonic hating me. I mean, he's still _Sonic_."

* * *

The day after his closed-door testimony, Prower went to his office as was his habit. He was an administrator and the comforting routine of paper and small decisions filled the morning. That afternoon, he took a walk around Central City to clear his head, arriving back at his lab that evening, where he had left his phone. Checking it, he had a dozen missed calls, all from one source: Coldsteel. Prower listened to one of the voice messages. Coldsteel wanted the name of his former White House secretary.

The web was expanding, Prower realized. Investigations have an insidious quality, moving in an ever-widening circle. The president's staff and now the secretaries to the staff. He called Coldsteel, who said the Segagate Committee was going to tie him to the revelation of the tapes. Coldsteel was recommending that Prower be called as a public witness before the whole committee.

"Surely, you can keep the tapes' existence under wraps," Prower pleaded. At least for two weeks until Knuckles was scheduled to testify before the committee.

"Impossible!" Coldsteel said. "It's going to leak for sure!"

Coldsteel seemed in a frenzy to Prower, almost out of control. Prower felt sick and realized he needed to get advice. But from whom? That's when he realized that he had nobody. In betraying the president, betraying Sonic, he would be losing all his allies.

He bumped into Senator Sonia on his way out and unloaded the whole story on her. "You know me, it took me an hour and a half to tell her," he said later.

When he finally finished, Sonia stood frozen, in complete silence, seemingly crestfallen. Finally, her head drooped. "Shit." That was all she said before she walked away, leaving Prower alone.


	22. Chapter 22

**22**

"There is little I don't remember about that day," Prower wrote years later. He came in early to the office to get a head start on his inbox, normally the soothing—even addicting—chore to prepare for an early morning staff meeting. Time flies at a staff meeting when you are the one in charge.

There was still no call from anyone on the Segagate Committee to confirm that he would not have to appear.

He kept an 11 a.m. appointment to have his fur groomed. The barber had been personally recruited by Prower several years earlier to groom President Sonic.

Nearly every TV set in the Federation, certainly in Central City, was turned to the live hearings of the Senate Segagate Committee. A set in the corner of the barbershop had it on.

"Keep your eye on your work," Prower said to the barber, "and I will follow the hearings and promise to alert you to anything extraordinary." As the hearings droned on with witnesses comedically veering further and further from any question, Prower's mind drifted and his eyelids drooped as the barber worked and chatted away.

"It's for you!" the receptionist called, handing Prower the phone, breaking his reverie. He had not even heard the phone ring.

It was Coldsteel. The decision had been made that Prower would appear publicly before the committee at the beginning of the afternoon session that day at 2 p.m.

"What!" Prower was steaming mad. This was not right or fair. What about Sonia? What about Prower's schedule? He told Coldsteel he would not appear.

"Very well," Coldsteel replied coolly, "but I'll have to report to the chairman your refusal to appear."

"Fine," Prower snapped. "You do that, because I mean what I say. I'll be damned if I'm going to jump through a hoop for the mere convenience of your committee. I think all of you are moving much too fast on a matter that I consider to be both sensitive and delicate in the extreme." Prower realized he was so tightly wound that he was practically shouting. Realizing this, he frantically apologized before hanging up.

Looking back at the television, Prower noticed Coldsteel.

"There's the guy I was just talking to," Prower said to the barber, surmising what might have happened.

Moments later, there was another call from Coldsteel.

"I just talked to the other committee-members," Coldsteel said in his second call to Prower.

"I know. I think I saw you on the TV."

"Well," Coldsteel said, "I have been informed to tell you that if you're not in my office by 12:30, we'll have G.U.N. marshals pick you up on the street."

Improbable, Prower thought. But it was time to calm down, smooth it over if he could. Chuckling, he apologized again for his earlier outburst and said he would need some more time, but promised to be in Coldsteel's office as soon as he could that day.

After his grooming session was complete, he flew to Coldsteel's office.

Prower, speaking directly to Senator Coldsteel, argued that it would be "inappropriate" for him to be the one to testify in public. Let someone more involved like Knuckles do it, he begged. "I'm completely on the periphery here," Prower said. This was a weak argument, he quickly realized.

"To have someone else reveal the taping system would be inappropriate," Coldsteel countered, implying that Prower should get the credit.

Prower felt the meeting was relaxed, friendly and unhurried. But Prower made no demands, no requests. If he had, it almost certainly would not have changed history. But a delay would have given Sonic and the White House time to plan a strategy. Prower felt he was riding this wave and part of him did want the credit. He was going along with their process and procedures.

"It's getting late," Coldsteel said. He showered him with compliments. He was his witness now.

Prower went to the washroom. He had not brought a toothbrush or his gargle. But he had a comb to run through his fur. He leaned forward on the sink and stared into the mirror. He bit hard on his lower lip and tried to picture the future. What was everyone and every group that had had what they thought were private meetings with Sonic in the White House going to think?

The afternoon news had a report headlined: MYSTERY WITNESS NEXT.

Prower had a moment to call his mother.

"Don't tell me you're the mystery witness?" she said.

* * *

Then eight uniformed Central City police arrived to take him up to testify. Clomp, clomp, clomp through the marble corridors. Two in front waving people out of their path. Two others in tandem on each side, and two behind. There was something overbearing about it, a large parade, clearing the way to the elevator.

As the phalanx entered the Senate Grill Room, a large, ornate famous hearing room, they bulled their way down the far aisle to the witness table maintaining a furious momentum through the jam-packed interior that was alive with sound and cameras clicking.

Prower was sworn in. Coldsteel began the questioning.

Prower sat erect, looking hesitant with his fingers interlocked. He felt relaxed, however, because he knew what would be asked and what he would answer. Coldsteel spoke in his confident voice.

This was it, Prower said to himself. After a few preliminary questions, Coldsteel asked: "Are you aware of the installation of any listening devices in the president's office?"

Prower paused. Coldsteel had used the present tense.

"I _was_ aware of listening devices, yes, sir," he said, correcting to past tense.

Eight words that shook the world. It seemed to Prower there was absolute silence and no one moved. They were still and quiet as if they were witnessing a hinge of history slowly swinging open—way open. Then, after a few seconds, came a stirring and sudden rush of comment. It was as if a bare 10,000-volt cable was running through the room, and suddenly everyone touched it at once.

Prower could see that those in the room were momentarily stunned. Listening devices in Sonic's office! Tapes! The intensity was immediate. White House tapes! Prower could see it in their faces, hear it in the voices. The secret was out: Sonic Bugged Himself. Not at random but continually. It was baffling that the president, that _Sonic_ , having spent his early life fighting Dr. Robotnik's machines, had turned over the secret record of his presidency to machines. Even to Prower, who had known the secret for years, it was nothing less than incredible.

* * *

During his testimony, he was asked about his reluctance to disclose. Yes, he said, he was worried that he might be preempting the president. "But obviously not so reluctant that I failed to answer."

He closed with words that for the rest of his life he wished he had not uttered: "This matter which we have discussed here today, I think, is precisely the substance on which the president plans to present his defense. I believe, of course, that the president is innocent"—and he looked up at the senators—"of any crime or wrongdoing, that he is innocent likewise of any complicity."

Years later, Prower found it difficult to review his testimony. We had just spent some time concentrating on how honest he had been when he disclosed the taping system.

"I've just sat here telling you about how I don't lie," he said to me, "and wouldn't lie, but that is a white lie. I did not believe the president was innocent. So, I have to admit that."

Prower said he was playing both roles—riding both horses—one of the aggressive, truth-telling citizen and the other of a former, loyal member of the Sonic team. "I got one leg in the stirrup of the other horse," he said.

At that moment years before, he said, he was confused, disoriented. "I was being put through a wringer there, and I wasn't sure how I felt. But I like to think what I did was the right thing to do."

At the same time, he was full of mixed emotions. "I felt confused, conflicted and regretful," he told me.

He exited the Grill Room two hours after entering. He walked alone down the empty corridor, not a soul in sight. The reporters were all filing bulletins or putting together stories. But he had no idea where he was. He didn't know how to get out. He finally found an exit and flew back to the FAA.

Prower didn't look at television that night, and went straight to his bed. Sitting awake, Prower dwelled for a moment on the average civilian on the street. What would he or she think? What would they be saying about Sonic? This would be big, big news. High drama indeed, the roiling, snowballing scandal.

For Prower, it was not a happy time. "I know I'm toast. I'm on my way out. I'm sorry that the task has fallen to me."


	23. Chapter 23

**23**

Sonic later wrote in his memoir, "I was shocked by this news. As impossible as it must seem now, I had believed that the existence of the White House taping system would never be revealed. I thought at least executive privilege would have been raised by any staff member before verifying its existence." He also said he wrote a note on his bedside notepad: "Tapes—once start, no stopping."

Rouge, who had taken over as Sonic's chief of staff just two months earlier, said once that she knew some tapes were made in the Sonic White House but Prower's testimony came as an unimaginable surprise.

"This was the first I had heard of the existence of an eavesdropping system that recorded every word uttered in the presence of Sonic, and it came as a total surprise to me," Rouge said. "I had no foreknowledge of Prower's appearance, let alone the nature of his testimony.

"It never occurred to me that anyone in their right mind would install such a system that never shut off, that preserved every word, every joke, every curse, every tantrum, every flight of presidential paranoia, every bit of flattery and bad advice and tattling by his advisers."

That pretty much said it all. On her own, without consulting the president, Rouge ordered the system dismantled. "Tear it out," she directed.

Sonic was in the hospital for viral pneumonia and Rouge went out to see him because she believed the Prower revelation was too sensitive to discuss over the phone. Always the options woman, Rouge said Sonic had two—keep the tapes or destroy them.

The White House Segagate lawyers accompanied Rouge to see Sonic. They were divided. The first lawyer, a former G.U.N. general counsel and Rouge's good friend, said, "Destroy the tapes."

The second pushed back. "Mr. President," he told Sonic, "that would be an intolerable act. If you were to do such a thing, I must tell you that I would feel obligated to resign in protest and publicly explain the reasons for my resignation."

"Get out of here," Sonic ordered both lawyers. He always hated lawyers. "Rouge, you stay."

There was no decision that night, and Rouge returned to the hospital the next morning.

"Rouge, I've thought about this all night long," Sonic said. "Maybe Tails has done us a favor. These tapes will be exculpatory. I know I never said anything to anybody that could be interpreted as encouragement to cover things up. Just the opposite."

The president continued, according to Rouge, "Rouge, we know that Jet lied and the tapes proved that. We don't know what other lies may be told by people who are trying to save themselves." His suspicion extended to his closest former aides. "Who knows what Mighty might say, or even Knuckles. The tapes are my best insurance against perjury. I can't destroy them."

It was unclear if this was an all-consuming case of denial or whether it was a way of enlisting Rouge further into another round of the cover-up. Maybe it was the viral pneumonia that was causing him to hallucinate.

One immediate consequence, as Rouge explained, was that the tapes made Sonic a laughingstock. "All over the Federation, his supporters and enemies were asking the same question: How could he, Sonic the Hedgehog, have been so dumb as to install such a system? Robotnik? Sure. But Sonic?"

* * *

A year after he disclosed the taping system, Prower was called before yet another committee, this one investigating the impeachment of Sonic. Prower had gone through a sea change. Any redeeming characteristics in Sonic had been overshadowed by the extent of the lies and the crimes. Prower cooperated fully with the chief counsel of the impeachment investigation. Prower's essential point in his testimony was that though he had no personal knowledge of the Segagate cover-up and other abuses and crimes, he did know how the Sonic White House worked. Sonic was obsessively a detail person, he said, and Knuckles was a pure extension of Sonic. And it was inconceivable, Prower testified, that Knuckles would have done anything without Sonic's knowledge and approval. Prower consciously decided to tell it all—and to contradict the president's claim that he did not know about the Segagate cover-up. Prower said he was certain that Sonic not only knew but was in charge of all Segagate-related activity.

After the testimony, which was closed to the public, word quickly got back to the White House that Prower had been excessively cooperative and was openly anti-Sonic. He was clearly no Sonic supporter, as if anyone needed more evidence.

"You're destroying the greatest leader this federation ever had!" Amy Rose declared loudly in an evening phone call to his lab one night that month. She sounded highly intoxicated.

Prower defended himself and his actions. "Amy, don't say that," he insisted. "That's simply not true."

He received about five similar calls at home from Amy that month.

"You're on the other side," she said in one call. "You always were."

* * *

Days later, the United Federation Supreme Court in a unanimous decision ordered Sonic to turn over the tapes to the Segagate prosecutor. This included the so-called "smoking-gun" tape that established that Sonic was actively in charge of the cover-up, directing that G.U.N. move to limit the investigation. The tape proved in detailed, vivid back-and-forth conversations between Sonic and Knuckles that Prower was right about how the president controlled the Segagate decisions and actions.

Just two weeks later, President Sonic announced in a live international television address that he would resign the presidency the following day at noon.

That day, Prower was alone in his FAA office. He tuned into the TV set to watch Sonic's farewell address to cabinet, staff, and friends. Prower could see it was a talk without text or order. Perspiring, Sonic talked about his past, his old adventures and heroics, his eventual decision to run for president, and more. He tried to focus on the good times.

Finally, Sonic waved his hand as if to urge that his final point not be lost: "Always remember, others may hate you—but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself."

It was as if Sonic finally unraveled the essence of himself. He had witnessed the awful destructive power of hate. Instead of getting the others, it had eaten and doomed him.

That was it, Prower realized. The hating was at Sonic's center, the driving force to get the "sons of bitches," to settle all the scores for all the slights and snubs and opposition. This hate, the duplicity, the incessant plotting had become the engine of his presidency.

Prower almost couldn't absorb it. The room was full of sobbing, the clear sound of weeping. Some held handkerchiefs to their faces, squeezed their arms to contain themselves, and a few held hands. Amy Rose wasn't present, apparently because officials were worried she would snap and rush the podium or something.

"I could not believe that people were crying in that room," Prower later said. "It was sad, yes. But justice had prevailed. Inside, I was cheering. That's what I was doing. I was cheering."

For a long time, Prower could see that people from the Sonic administration avoided him. Often it wasn't subtle. Old friends would walk right by him. But it was seldom rude. There were a few whispered signs of approval, "Hey, Tails, nice going. We were proud of you." But not many, maybe not enough.

* * *

In my final interview with Prower, he told me he had zero regrets. "No regrets. If I had to do it over again, I figure I'd do the very same thing, Mario. The very same thing."


	24. Sonic's Final Night

**Sonic's Final Night**

There was the president in his chair, as he had seen him so often. Shadow reflected on the fact that he really didn't like the president. Impossible to believe six years before, Sonic had made him one of the most admired figures in the Federation, yet Shadow couldn't bring himself to like his patron. They sat for a time and reminisced about events, travels, old adventures and shared decisions. The president was drinking. He said he was resigning. It would be better for everyone. They talked quietly—history, the resignation decision, foreign affairs, the past.

Then Sonic said that he wasn't sure he would be able to resign. Could he be the first president to quit office in the history of the United Federation? What would the people think? His old friends? His enemies?

Shadow responded by listing the president's contributions, especially in diplomacy, as well as his old heroics.

"Will history treat me more kindly than my contemporaries?" Sonic asked, tears flooding to his eyes.

"Certainly, definitely," Shadow said. "When this is all over, you will be remembered for the peace you have achieved."

The president broke down and sobbed.

Shadow didn't know what to do. He felt cast in a fatherly role. He talked on, he picked up on the themes he had heard so many times from the president. He remembered lines about his enemies, the need to stand up to adversity, to face criticism forthrightly.

Between sobs, Sonic was plaintive. What had he done to the Federation and its people? He needed some explanation. How had it come to this? How had a simple burglary, a breaking and entering, done all this?

Shadow kept talking, trying to turn the conversation back to all the good things, all the accomplishments. Sonic wouldn't hear of it. He was hysterical. "Shadow," he said, "you are not very religious, and neither am I, but we need to pray."

Sonic got down on his knees. Shadow felt he had no alternative but to kneel down, too. The president prayed out loud, asking for help, rest, peace and love. How could a president and a federation be torn apart by such small things?

Shadow thought he had finished. But the president did not rise. He was weeping. And then, still sobbing, Sonic leaned over, striking his fists on the carpet, crying, "What have I done? What has happened?"

Shadow touched the president, and then held him, tried to console him, to bring rest and peace to the hedgehog who was curled on the carpet like a child. The president of the United Federation. _Sonic the Hedgehog_. Shadow tried again to reassure him, reciting Sonic's accomplishments.

Finally, the president struggled to his feet. He sat back down in his chair. The storm had passed. He had another drink.

Shadow lingered. He talked on, building a case, pouring his academic talents into a lecture on why Sonic the Hedgehog would go down in history as one of the great, heroic peacemakers of all time. "You made the tough decisions," he said. "You saved lives."

The two hedgehogs had a few more drinks. Their conversation drifted around to personalities and to the role Sonic might be able to play once he was out of office. He might be an adviser, or a special ambassador. Sonic wondered if he would be exonerated by history. Shadow was encouraging; he was willing to say anything. But he was thinking that Sonic would never escape the verdict of Segagate.

As he got up to leave, Shadow realized that Sonic had never really asked as much of him as he had that night. Dinosaur Land, Soleanna, Chun-nan, the Mushroom War—they all seemed easier. Weak in the knees, his body damp from perspiration, Shadow escaped. And he realized that though he was the president's only top adviser to survive Segagate, he had never really been consulted about resignation.

As he walked through the western corridor to his office, Shadow thought he had never felt as close to or as far from Sonic the Hedgehog. Never as close to or as far from anyone he had ever known.

Two of Shadow's key aides were waiting, having listened in on his meeting with the president, as they always did. It was almost eleven. Shadow looked somber and drained. He did not shout orders, ask for messages, make phone calls or demand reports.

He was clearly upset. To get control over his own tensions, Shadow began talking about the encounter. "The president is definitely resigning," he said.

"It was the most wrenching thing I have ever gone through in my life—hand holding," Shadow added. The president was a broken hedgehog. What a traumatic experience it had been, what a profound shock to see a hero at the end of his rope. He was convinced that historians would at least treat Sonic better than his contemporaries had, but it might take some time before that particular revisionist history would be written.

One of Shadow's aides mentioned that he thought it significant that Sonic had turned to Shadow for sustenance in his most awful moment. Not to Rouge or Amy or Silver or even Sally. Not to any of the others.

"Shadow," the other aide said, "at times I've thought you're without emotions. But I was wrong. I've never seen you so moved."

The phone rang. It was the president.

Both aides picked up extensions to listen. That was the custom—Shadow never took a call alone. They were shocked. The president was slurring his words. He was drunk. He was out of control.

"It was good of you to come up and talk, Shadow," the president said. "I've made the decision, but you must stay. You must stay on for the good of the Federation."

They could barely make out what the president was saying. He was almost incoherent. It was pathetic. Both aides felt ill and hung up.

Sonic had one last request. "Shadow, please don't ever tell anyone that I cried and that I was not strong."


End file.
